The Roots of Evil
by Imaginigma
Summary: An old enemy seeks revenge on Aragorn by using a most whicked poison, but not only Aragorn has to pay, but his brothers as well. When Legolas is drawn into the evil game as well, things turn for the worst. And this time, not even Imladris can offer healin
1. Pre Chapter

**Title: The Roots of Evil (Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter) **

**Chapter:**Pre-Chapter

**Rating: **T (for later chapters)

**Warnings: **Sequel to** Delw Yomenie "Deadly encounter" **Other warnings are _not yet_ necessary.

**Disclaimer: **What shall I say? I do not own them, never will. I make no money with this story, it was written for my and, hopefully, your enjoyment only.

**Summery: **An evil has risen, so dark and diabolic that it could destroy the future of Middle-Earth and it has set its eyes on the hope of men and his family and friends. When evil strikes, will they be able to survive? And more importantly, is it worth to try this time?

**Beta: Trinilee Greenleaf (the best)**

**A/N: **_italics _are thoughts

**

* * *

**They can be found at most places. Some are made by mother nature itself, some are made by skilled hands. Many have been used to do good, most of them have not. They are living in the deep forests, some dwell in deep chasms or caves, where no light ever reaches, other reside in rivers or lakes, water their element. Some love the cold, others the sun's warm rays; they are all different, but have one thing in common: 

_They bring out the death._

One by touch, one by smell… and others by being eaten.

They have been analysed and catalogued, but with the passing of time some have vanished out of the healer's mind.

_Until they are brought back to his attention by the cruellest way imaginable._

Some are stupid, they are so eager to do their work that they will kill you within seconds, minutes, maybe some few hours – if they can bear to wait that long. They will crush your lungs or infect your heart, change your blood or make you hallucinate until the end.

They kill you fast, some painless, others not.

But they are so eager that you will have no time to worry about your fate or that of your family. Not for long, at least.

Some are wiser, their powers strong, sucking your strength, grinding your bones to ashes, nibbling at your flesh and making your blood so thick that it will become a lump in your veins, making you scream out your lungs and cry, whimper and whine, beg for mercy and a quick death. If you have enough strength to scream, that is.

But they are not the ones you have to fear. No, fear is reserved for those that are intelligent enough to stay hidden and a secret. They claim your body bit by bit, they are like a secret weapon that one carries under his cloak, hidden and invisible. You do not even know that it is there, but then, when you expect it the least, you are stabbed with it into your back.

_And then you realize –too late- what has befallen you._

And some are even more evil.

They will come at you in phases, waves that make you weak like a child. Then they retreat and you take a deep breath, willing to get over the experience and just when you begin to forget, the secret weapon strikes again, this time bringing you to your knees.

And when you see your body succumb to the evil in your veins, when you spit out the blood that has filled your lungs and feel the sweat trickle down your brow, then you know that your time on this arda will not find a pleasant ending.

_Nor a quick one._

One of these, the most intelligent one, long forgotten by most, a thing so evil that it has not been used for millennia, has found its way into willing hands, belonging to someone who is himself infected by a poison: hate.

And he wants his revenge.

_Four set out from Imladris and soon they will go their separate ways._

One to the East, where a Kingdom calls for him,

Two to the West, where their home is, and

One to the North, where duty awaits his return.

_Four set out from the shadows to follow._

One a poacher, good with bow and arrow,

One a hunter, cunning with traps and tracking,

One a killer, skilled with sword and knife, and

A former captain of men, a master in all these skills, eager to get his revenge.

--oOo--

The poison is taken, sleeping still, patiently waiting to strike. But as fate has it, not only the initiated target falls victim to its spell.

A game of cat and mouse begins, more deadly than anything that they have encountered before.

Souls are tormented,

Sacrifices made,

Lives lost.

And before it ends, one has to make a decision that will not only tear his heart apart, but that will claim his very soul…..or his best friend´s life.

Read all this in: **"The Roots of Evil"**.


	2. 1 The wait is over

**Title: The Roots of Evil (Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter)**

**Chapter:** 1 "The wait is over"

**Rating: **T (for later chapters)

**Warnings: Sequel** to Delw Yomenie "Deadly encounter" Other warnings are not yet necessary.

**Disclaimer: **What shall I say? I do not own them, never will. I make no money with this story, it was written for my and, hopefully, your enjoyment only.

**Summery: **An evil has risen, so dark and diabolic that it could destroy the future of Middle-Earth and it has set its eyes on the hope of men and his family and friends. When evil strikes, will they be able to survive? And more importantly, is it worth to try?

**Beta: Trinilee! Thanks soooo much for your help, I think without it I would never be able to write this fic. smile**

**A/N: **Wow, this has taken way too long to be written and posted. My great sorry goes to all those of you who have waited for this sequel. I have started my new university term in September and it takes soooo much time. Actually, I have no time to write this here, but I am alone at home at the moment as the two friends I am living with are visiting their parents over the weekend and I just "have" to use this opportunity of a quiet house, a full fridge, an empty table and an unused cd player…well, the table is not really "empty", it is littered with study books, law texts, post its, coffee cups, chocolate bars, papers, pens…(but hey, we are law students, so it is all "tidily" strewn over the table, the things for Monday in the left corner, the papers for Tuesday in the middle, Wednesday in the right corner…).

Okay, enough blabla, on to more serious stuff. As I have not much time, and neither internet here nor the tranquillity that I need to write, the chapters of this story will be shorter than last time, the posts will take longer (I hope not too long, hopefully once a week, but I have only time to write at the weekends and have only internet access from Monday to Thursday – sometimes I feel like I would live in Antarctica, and even they have more technical equipment than I have here... luckily we have electricity…grumble).

What else? Oh yes. As I have said, I have started a new term and well, my mood is not "that" good at the moment, I am on the verge of either crying or slamming something into the wall, preferably my books (believe me, you have never read such silly and boring stuff). So, that's it I think. Wow, this note has become longer than the chapter will be… Anyways, on with the story…(finally).

_- Italics are thoughts._

* * *

"**Mors certa, hora incerta"**

_(Death is certain, the hour is it not)_

* * *

The wind was howling around the few houses that flanked the filthy street, the windows were barred with wood or planks, the doors locked. All houses were dark and cold, no light seeped from under the doors and no smoke came from the roofs. All seemed empty, silent and dead. 

Rain was drizzling from the sky, the grey clouds hanging deep, the moon of the night covered by them, his silver light imprisoned by the thick gloom. The water from the rain that had been falling during the last days had turned the road into a muddy track, puddles had formed and water was running in small rivulets down the main street.

Another gust of cold wind was rushing down the alleyway and the hooded figure drew the cloak tighter around his broad shoulders. His steps were splashing through the mud, the earth clinging to his boots, the sludge staining his cloak and trousers, but he did not seem to care. Stepping around another puddle of brown mud, he went on, his hood drawn deep into his face, his shoulders hunched, but his step was strong, his stride wide. He knew where he was heading.

The next gust of wind sprinkled his weather worn face with water, the wetness dripping under his cloak and down his neck and over his back, but he did not feel the coldness of it. It was long since he had felt anything but hate. Hate, anger and the thirst for revenge.

Revenge, the word sounded so good in his mind. So warm, comfortable and homely. He wanted his revenge and he would get it, maybe not today, not tomorrow, but certainly in the near future. That was why he was in this Valar forsaken village on this miserable night.

In the shadow of an old house that had been standing empty for years, the hooded figure crept along the side of the road, sneaking from shadow to shadow, from corner to corner, always on the look out for peering eyes. Inside, he knew that he need not worry. The souls that still lived here had long but learnt to ignore the strangers that came here, if they wanted to live, that was. Whoever came here was either a thief, a murderer or both…or worse.

The figure grinned slightly as he walked into the darkness of another house. A thief he was, a murderer too, but soon, soon he would be evil itself. More than that, The Ultimate Evil.

The rain that had fallen during the day and the night became stronger, turning from a drizzle to a heavy cascade, drenching him and soaking his clothing. Still, the hooded figure trudged on through the rain and down the deserted street. He had waited so long already, there was no need to hurry now, but neither was he willing to stop.

When he neared the end of the road, his cloak heavy with water and drenched with wet earth, he lifted his hooded face and looked up at the front of an old wooden building, more a hut than a house.

The wind whipped at the cloak and before the man had the time to get a hold of his hood, the wind blew under the material and lifted it, revealing white hair that crowned a white face, and as the sky bellowed in thunder and lightening, the eerie red eyes of the human gleamed dangerously. He had arrived.

Turning to the door which's wood had turned grey over the years, the handle rusty and weather worn, the figure scanned his surroundings before he knocked at the door. His other hand lay hidden under his cloak, resting on the hilt of his sharp broad sword. He would not risk anything; he had risked before and had paid dearly for his negligence. He would not let that happen again.

For long moments he just stood there, the rain drumming on his shoulders, his white hair being plastered at his thin face, his eyes never leaving the door but at the same time surveying the street behind him and the houses surrounding him. His senses were on full alert, his stance tense and his being ready to strike should something happen, should someone dare to attack him or just look at him the wrong way. He was here in a very important matter and he would get what he had come for.

Just as another gust of wind whipped the chilly rain at his face, his sharp ears detected a shuffling sound coming from the door and only a moment later he heard a lock being opened and then, slowly, the old hinges creaking, the door opened a few inches, just enough to let a thin glimmer of red light fall on the eerie street. It was not enough to lift the night's darkness or to reveal the human who had opened the old door, but the man standing in the rain needed not the light to recognize the figure that stood behind it. They had met before. Now, he had returned to get what he had asked for.

The white haired man nodded curtly, rain streaming unhindered down his face, his eyes gleaming in the weak light creeping out of the door. A moment later the door was opened fully, letting the stranger enter, then closing behind him, being locked, then barred with a wooden bar so that no other could cross the threshold.

Inside the house it was nearly as cold as outside, a small fire the only source of light and a smidge of warmth, but it seemed it was enough for the man who lived here. Or rather, worked here.

The hut consisted of only two rooms, the large living room and a small bedroom, the front door leading directly into the former.

The light inside was scarcely brighter than the night outside and the stranger minutely asked himself how the man could work under such conditions, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. What did he care _how_ the man worked, as long as he worked?

Looking around the chamber, his eyes took in the many cupboards that lined the walls, all full of pots and casts, bottles and boxes.

In the middle of the room stood a large table, littered with more pots and boxes, some leather satchels, scales, bottles, tubes, herbs and other things that the stranger did not know and honestly not even wished to know what they were for. The smell that they caused was enough to make his stomach lurch, the stench of rotten meat and stale air overpowering.

Nevertheless, he stepped closer to the table, his eyes now focused on the small and lean figure of the man who lived here. The man had not spoken yet, had only retreated to the other side of the table, as if he needed the wood between him and the stranger to feel safe. The wet man nearly smiled. How naïve could one be?

As his host made no sign to speak, the white haired man spoke, his voice low and rough, as if he had not had a drink in a long time, but despite all this, his voice was commanding and demanded respect, or fear.

"You remember me?"

The other man only nodded, his head bobbing up and down, his greasy hair flapping around his head and landing on his shoulders. His eyes never left those of his guest and sweat began to appear on is brow.

"Do you have what I asked for?"

Another curt nod and then, after a moment of hesitation, the man moved to a shelf on one of the walls and after some rummaging in a small wooden box presented two small satchels made out of leather, one black, the other of a dark brown. Shaking slightly, he returned to the table and held out his hand.

The white haired man sighed inwardly, his heart beating a fraction faster in joy. So, that was it; the tool for his revenge. Reaching over the table with a gloved hand he took the satchels from the man and let them slide into his pocket without so much as looking at them. Turning his stare at the shaking man, he asked calmly, his voice low.

"They do what I asked for?"

Once more the man nodded, then he gulped, raising one slim hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. Taking a shuddering breath, he visibly tried to compose himself and when he looked back at the white haired man, he answered the question, his voice unsteady.

"Yes, just as you asked for. T-The poison does not kill immediately, it works is phases. The first one begins with …"

He never finished his sentence as just then the stranger lifted his hand and effectively silenced the scared human.

"I do not need to know."

_It will be much more fun seeing the effects. Knowing in advance would only spoil the fun._

Letting his hand fall to his side, the stranger gazed at the human before him and smiled inwardly at the trembling man. He had not yet decided if he should kill him or not. That made the whole affair even more enjoyable.

"What is the other satchel for? The antidote?"

Again, the first answer he got was a shaky nod and then the inhabitant of the hut answered in a hushed voice, the words tumbling out of his mouth like water out of a leaking bucket.

"Yes, the black satchel, that's the p-poison. In the brown one is the antidote. You only need to make a tea out of it, it will work fast, b-but you need to take it before you enter the last stage of the p-poison. After that it will not work anymore."

"How long?"

"It depends. On the strength of the victim, the bodily constitution, health, age, weight…"

"How long?" His voice was now barely a whisper, but it cut the stale air like a knife would slice through butter and the other man nearly jumped at its tone. Gulping, he answered.

"Until it begins to work? A few days, two, maybe three. Until you enter the last stage? Four weeks, maybe a few days more or less. Until you die? No one has lasted longer than five weeks yet, most of the victims end their suffering before that time."

The shaking man felt a shudder run down his spine as the man opposite him started to smile. It was a cruel smile, full of malice and evil. He trembled and wished that he had never met this man.

"And you are sure the poison is unknown to all?"

"Well, it is an old poison, rarely know to anybody anymore. It was used the last time in the Second Age, as far as I know. Legend tells that it was created by the Dark Lord himself. And who, by the Valar, would still know of it these days?"

A small and uneasy chuckle escaped his lips and all it did was make the stranger lose his smile, his eyes narrowing and his face turning grim.

The shaking man swallowed thickly.

_Oh, please, just let him go. Just let him go and I promise I will never do something like this again._

But the white haired stranger did not turn to leave yet, he had one last question to ask.

"Does the poison have any effects on elves?"

_Elves, by all that was sacred, elves?_

The other man gulped once more and as he answered he tried to give his voice an amused tone, but failed miserably.

"Elves? Those creatures out of legends? No, I have not heard yet that this poison works on elves."

"Have you tried?"

_Tried? He had never even seen an elf before, how should he have tried?_

"No, I-I have not, b-but I have never heard that the p-poison has any effect on them."

"Good."

_Would not want them to miss the spectacle, now would I?_

Grinning inwardly, the cloaked stranger turned to leave. He had all that he had come for. There was no need for him to stay longer than necessary. He had just made one step to the door, when he suddenly stopped and turned. As he had hoped, the other man was still standing behind the table, flinching as he directed his piercing gaze on him. Taking one step towards the trembling man, he said in his low voice, void of all emotion:

"I nearly forgot your payment."

Fear crept into the other man´s eyes and he took a step back, then another, until his back connected with a cupboard that stood behind him.

_Oh please, spare me…_

As the stranger reached inside his cloak, the shivering man closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to Mandos to make his end swift and his passage to the Halls even swifter. But the cold bite of a sword never came, and when the rattling sound of coins meeting a table met his ears, he timidly opened his eyes again.

There on the wooden table lay a small leather bag, undoubtedly filled with coins; his payment. Stunned eyes lifted from the bag to the stranger, his mouth hanging open slightly.

The white haired man grinned evilly, revealing white teeth that reminded the man of the fangs of a deadly predator.

"Your payment. Remember me well, we might meet again. Your service is highly appreciated."

If the last words had been spoken even more sarcastically, they would have dripped with it. Without another word, the stranger turned, lifted his hood over his head and strode to the door. He opened it and stepped out into the cold night, the wind and the rain swallowing his tall form. The next second he was gone.

The still trembling man sank back against the cupboard at his back and raised a shaky hand to wipe the cold sweat from his brow, his face as white as a sheet.

_Oh, why could he not have just killed me? That fate would have been more merciful…_

As the door closed behind him and the rain once more soaked his clothing, the wind whipping at his figure, the white haired man could no longer suppress his grin and finally let it spread over his face. With a confident stride he headed out into the night, eager to leave this ghostly village behind. Eager to start his little game. His revenge.

_They will all pay. They will pay for what they have done to me. The cursed elves will plead with me for mercy before I am done with them and the ranger will be on his knees before me. The last thing he will see before he dies will be my face and it shall haunt him to the Halls and into eternity._

And just as he left the small village behind him he reached inside his cloak and, with the flick of his hand, threw a little brown satchel into a nearby river, where it was drowned immediately by the current, never to surface again.

_End of chapter 1_

_Chapter two is called "The mighty ranger"_


	3. 2 The mighty ranger

**Title: The Roots of Evil **(Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter

**Chapter:** 2 "The mighty ranger"

**Rating**: T (for later chapters)**  
**

**Warnings**: Not yet necessary

**Disclaimer: **What shall I say? I do not own them, never will. I make no money with this story, it was written for my and, hopefully, your enjoyment only.

**Summery: **An evil has risen, so menacing and deadly that it could destroy the future of Middle-Earth. When it sets its eyes on the hope of men, will Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas be able to rescue him? And even more important, is it worth to try this time?

**Beta: Trinilee! Thanks soooo much for your help, I think without you I would never be able to write this fic. smile **

**A/N: **Hello! Just a quick word or two. I am planning tp update weekly, but sometimes real life can get in the way. Nevertheless, I hope that my beta and I will be able to update weekly. So, read and review and enjoy "The Roots of Evil".

* * *

"_Who needs enemies when he has brothers?"_

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_Chapter 2 « The mighty ranger »_

Autumn was slowly approaching the lands, the heat of summer gone, the nights turned colder and the days lacked the stifling warmth that the sun had provided over the last months.

Most of the trees had already begun to change the colours of their leaves and as the four riders passed under them, brown and yellow waved at them in the gentle breeze.

It was a sunny day; the sky a clear blue, and the river that ran through the forest sprinkled in the sun like liquid mithril. It was perhaps the last fine day at the end of the season. The birds were already busily preparing for the coming autumn and once or twice the riders had seen a small brown squirrel, a nut in its mouth, hurriedly scampering away from their horse's hooves.

It was a beautiful day to travel and so the four friends did not mind the long ride or the comfortable quietness that lingered between them.

Until one brown haired elf, the oldest of the three brothers began to snicker softly, that was.

With a deep breath and an annoyed rolling of his eyes, Estel, foster son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell and brother to the twins Elladan and Elrohir, directed his pleading look at the elf who rode beside him. But Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood and son of King Thranduil, just smiled at him as if to say "Come now, mellon nin, let them have their fun."

Exasperated, the young human turned his gaze to the road that lay before him and tried to think of something else and to ignore the snickers that came from his brother. Just as he thoughthe had won this time, and that his brother would soon become bored at the little game that he had been playing all day long, the snickering elf opened his mouth.

"I can't get over it. It is too funny. Wait until we tell ada."

"And Glorfindel, muindor (brother), don't forget our mighty Balrog slayer."

"Oh no, of course not, Elrohir. I can't wait to see Glorfindel's face when we tell him what Estel has done this time."

Taking another long suffering sigh, the man let his head hang.

Great. Just Great. They have their fun and who has to suffer? Me. It is always me. Can't it be Legolas for one instance? No, of course not. It is always me. Me, me, me, me. What have I done to deserve this?

As if to answer his unspoken question, Estel felt a soft hand on his knee and when he looked up, he met his Mirkwood friend's amused gaze. His grin widening, Legolas shook his head slightly and said: "Just let them have their fun, Estel. They will become bored soon."

Two identical voices quipped up from the other side of the ranger's horse.

"Never."

And after a moment the younger twin added: "Come now Legolas, I know you think it was funny, you just don't show it so you won't hurt little Estel´s feelings. Let it out. It 'was' funny."

Grinning, the elf watched how the man's face blushed slightly, his cheeks turning a weak red. Clearing his throat, Elrohir continued, his tone serious: "In all the long years that I have lived on arda, my eyes have beheld many things. I have seen elves crouch in fear before the most evil beings, humans that cried because they deemed their end had come. But never, never in all my long years have I…."

_Here we go_, Estel thought.

"…seen a 'grown up' ranger, one of the strongest and most fearless of his kin, a warrior so good with sword and bow that he could be compared with the elves…"

"Are you finished yet, Ro?" Estel was getting rather annoyed over his brother.

"…a man skilled in hunting and fighting as well as in poetry and lyrics…"

"Ro..." _One more word and I strangle him._

"… in archery and sword fighting, who can read and write, who speaks fluent Quenya and Sindarin as well as Westron…"

"Ro, I'll give you some advise; Stop now, or I'll stop it for you?" Estel, who had left the stage of ignorance long behind him and was entering the stage of being really annoyed over his brother's antics, could not refrain from throwing the younger twin a warning glare. Which Elrohir, of course, ignored.

"…who can run for leagues without stopping and who fears nothing…"

_Could you please get to the point so that I can then throttle you?_

"… never have I seen this man as my eyes beheld him one fine morning not so many days ago."

By now, a grin had become visible on the elf's face, his tone had become lighter and it seemed the elf was having a hard time not to laugh. And the fact that Elladan and Legolas were grinning like maniacs, both desperately, but unsuccessfully, trying to suppress their chuckles, did not help matters either.

Defeated, Estel once again let his head hang, his dark hair hiding his face. He took a deep breath to steady himself when his brother continued.

"Because on that glorious morning, our brave and courageous brother, the man who never fears nor surrenders, met his greatest enemy, he had been caught unawares, his defences down, his mind wandering. And this, my friends, was his doom."

Elladan could not hold back any longer and his fair voice sounded throughout the forest, his clear laughter echoing back from the trees. It seemed that this had been all that Legolas had needed and only a few moments after the elder twin's outburst, a cascade of giggles burst from the prince, his right hand clutching the reigns tightly so as not to topple from his mount.

Defeated, but still desperately clinging onto a bit of his pride, the ranger looked at his grinning and laughing brothers and with an annoyed "Funny 'Ro, very funny" he spurred his horse on and had soon put a small distance between him, his brothers and Legolas.

Blinking in confusion, the younger twin glanced at the human and then with a confused "What?" in the prince's direction, quickly leaned over to steady his still laughing brother on his horse.

Legolas, still smiling, shrugged his shoulders, but then, after a look at the man's back before him, kicked his horse as well and rode up to his friend. Estel did not even look at him when he rode level with him, but after a few minutes in which they silently rode side by side, the man sighed and looked at his friend.

A sheepish grin spread over his face and his eyes had a slightly pleading look in them.

"They will never let me live that one down, will they?"

"No, my friend, they will tell everybody who is willing to listen and when they are done with that they will tell all others. Who knows? Maybe one day they will even write a song about it?"

"Legolas, please, not you too." The human's tone held a suffering note, but nevertheless a small smile spread over his face. They rode in silence for a few more moments, until the ranger spoke again, his gaze directed at the way before him.

"Well, to be honest, I think I deserve it. From their point of view, it "was" funny."

"Do you want me to comment on that?"

"No, better not."

"You know mellon nin, you could say that you ad a nightmare, or that you thought it to be a…uhm, a rascal?"

"Legolas!"

"I am sorry Estel, but it is just so funny, I am sorry, really." Giggling, the blond haired elf threw an excusing glance at his friend. Estel rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, loud enough for the archer to hear.

"A rascal, now I am not only clumsy, but stupid as well. A rascal, really…I was half asleep, it's not my fault that I sleep deeply. How was I supposed to know that it had been Taran who jumped on my bed? It could have been a warg judging from the screams he made. How could I know he wanted to play 'orcy and ranger'? And I caught him before he landed on the floor. I was just a little bit confused for a second."

"May I remind you that you screamed as if you were being ripped into pieces?"

"I did not."

"You did, mellon nin."

"Well then, may I remind you that you let Taran braid your hair, not knowing that he used resin to make the braids hold? Who was it that helped you part your hair from your pillow the next morning and never told the twins, mh?"

The giggling stopped abruptly and Legolas stared at his friend wide eyed.

"You wouldn't!"

Estel raised his eyebrow and a small but evil grin spread over his face.

"Estel, please, you promised." Now it was the archer's turn to sound horrified and pleading.

"You know what, Legolas? Let's make a deal. I won't tell the twins, if you stop laughing at me over my little 'accident'."

Swallowing, the prince took a look over his shoulders at the brothers who rode behind them, deep in conversation, but both smiling like a cat that had just eaten a mouse. It was not hard to guess what they were talking about.

"Deal."

The rest of the day's ride was spent in a comfortable silence, the riders crossing a small stream with crystal clear water, passing under the huge trees that made the forest they were riding through.

The autumn had coloured the woods and their eyes met brilliant browns, grassy greens, rose reds and a blueberry blue sky. The sun let her rays sprinkle on the ground and when the leaves rustled in the gentle breeze, a play of light and dark reflected on the forest ground.

The four riders had set out from a small village near the Chetwood days ago, had skipped by Bree and travelled on the East-West Road. They had passed Amon Sul and crossed the Last Bridge a day ago, and were now riding at the edge of the Trollshaws. Tomorrow they would cross the Ford and enter the realm of the elves of Imladris.

The four had travelled all the way from Rivendell to the small village to visit a family. Not any family, but the parents of a, by now, four year old child. A young boy named Taran. When Taran had been only a year old, he and Estel had been kidnapped from Imladris. The humans had stabbed Legolas in the back, left him bleeding in the ranger's room and had then set out into the night with Estel and the child.

The next weeks had been a horror trip for all; the twins had set out to rescue their brother and when the prince had been well enough he had sneaked out of the elven haven and had started on his own rescue mission. Meanwhile, the leader of the group of men, a former captain, had taken the man and the child into his camp and had them guarded all the time.

When the twins had finally found their younger brother, Estel had been on the flight and after a short fight; all of them had been captured again. Legolas had found the camp the same night, but, unable to help them, had been forced to follow the group towards the Misty Mountains, hoping that help from Imladris would arrive soon.

At the Misty Mountains, Elrond, Glorfindel and his warriors had fought with the humans, killing most of them, but the leader, Dagnir, had been able to escape with the child. Without hesitation, Estel and Legolas had followed the hunter and had finally confronted him at the edge of a steep chasm.

Seeing his plan of revenge ruined, the leader had jumped over the cliff, taking the child with him. It had been a close rescue, but the two friends had managed to save the boy and themselves. Dagnir had fallen to his sure death at the bottom of the black chasm. No one had searched for his body, because no one could survive such a fall.

When the friends had reunited the child with his parents, they had learned of the reasons behind Dagnir´s actions. Torian, the child's father, had been a captain in the army of Gondor, a well respected and honoured man. He and Dagnir, also a captain, had been long time friends, had survived many battles and had always fought side by side. But then, things changed. Dagnir, always a man who desired wealth and nobility, even if it was a paid for one, had learned of an amount of gold that would be stored in Minas Tirith. It belonged to a wealthy man from the White City and the man wanted to buy many houses, farms and stables from it.

Dagnir had killed a guard to get to the gold, but Torian had caught him red handed and had told the chief captain. By the time the judgement had been made and the sentence decided, the murderer had fled from the city and Torian, knowing the man best, had been sent to find him and bring him back to the White City.

Torian had searched Gondor and Rohan before he finally found his old friend. Dagnir had tried to kill him, angered over Torian's betrayal and unwilling to be calmed by him. Their battle had been a fierce one and in the end, a rockslide had buried Dagnir under masses of stone and debris.

Seriously injured himself, Torian had had no other choice than to leave Dagnir where he was, convinced that he was dead. But, Dagnir had survived and started his plans of revenge, which mainly included killing Torian.

Torian, on the other hand, had heard rumours of the survival of his old friend and had set out from his home in Gondor to seek shelter with their relatives in the North. So had it come about that they had met Legolas in the forest of Rivendell and trusted him with their child, who took it to Imladris, to the Last Homely House, where Dagnir had found the boy and kidnapped him and Estel.

Now, almost three years later, the twins, Estel and Legolas had visited the family in their new home near the Chetwood to see how they fared and to share news and have a few good days. Legolas had been amazed at how much the boy had grown and the twins had been more in the kitchen than anywhere else. Torian's wife was one of the best cooks westwards of Imladris. Or so they claimed.

Estel had spent a lot of time with Taran. They had played and laughed together and although the two had not seen each other for such a long time, the bond that they shared was still strong. To say farewell had been a hard task and Taran had wept when Estel had held him in his arms. Still, they had not been able to stay longer and so they had all sworn to come back and visit them in a few months.

Their trip home had so far been uneventful, a rare occurrence when these four were together. When night slowly settled over the forest, they stopped their horses, dismounted and while the twins went to fetch firewood, Legolas and Estel spread out the blankets and prepared their meal.

Soon, a merry fire was burning, the orange flames flickering and their glow casting shadows over the four faces. From time to time the winds would catch the flames and send sparks into the night sky, their red shimmer vanishing the higher they went and finally becoming one with the black sky.

It was a beautiful evening and a clear night; the stars twinkled down from the heavens and the dark treetops towered over the small group and gave them a feeling of security and protection.

They talked until late in the night before they bid each other goodnight, Elrohir and Elladan sharing the first watch, Legolas would take the second and Estel the one that reached until dawn.

The twins took position near the fire and talked quietly while their companions slept and when it was time, Elladan woke the archer and, after bidding him goodnight, the two Peredhels went to their blankets and soon their eyes glazed over in the elvish fashion of sleep.

Seating himself on a fallen log and stretching out his long legs, the prince placed his long bow beside him, ready to be used when needed, stirred the fire and then, after a searching look at their surroundings, directed his gaze at the cloudless sky above him. It was truly a wonderful night.

The night crept slowly on, the wind became stronger, but still the moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled from the sky, their glimmer calming all hearts that looked at them.

A soft rustle of fabric caught the elf's attention and, looking at the figure of his human friend who had turned in his sleep, a sad smile appeared on the fair features.

I wonder how many times I have been in a similar situation. Countless times, I guess. But, how many more times will I be in a situation such as this? Time flows, all is in motion. Taran has grown so much in this short a time. I wonder…

The smile became even sadder as the prince took in the form of his sleeping friend.

Soon our ways will part. I have to return to Mirkwood. I miss my home yes, but…ah, I will miss him, too, and the twins. And Imladris and…ah, how much I will miss them. It will be too long before we meet again.

_Estel will return to the rangers, to the north, far away from family and friends. I won't be there when he needs help, or advice, or a shoulder he can lean on. I…won't be there for him._

_Oh Legolas, get a grip on yourself_. _Estel is grown up and can look after himself. Elrohir might have said it as a joke today, but Estel is capable of all the things your friend said. You worry needlessly. He won't be alone. There are many rangers and they will look after him. He will be perfectly fine._

Sighing, Legolas shook his head slightly. Since when did he talk to himself? Grinning now despite his own thoughts, the archer shifted slightly on the log and directed his gaze back at the stars. It truly was a unique night and not even his gloomy thoughts could change that. When his gaze fell on a bright star in the East, another thought entered his mind.

I have not even told my father that I will stay a month longer than planned. Perhaps I should rather think of my own fate rather than that of my friend…

Smiling slightly, he let his eyes wander over the sky, lost in his thoughts for a long time. Then suddenly, just as the elf planned on waking the slumbering human for his watch, his sharp elven hearing caught a sound; the breaking of a twig.

The elven bow was in his hands faster than any mortal could comprehend and the arrow was notched before Legolas had even taken his second breath. His eyes tried to penetrate the dark forest around him and he strained his ears to catch the slightest sound.

Maybe an animal… 

Tilting his head to the side and listening intently, the Mirkwood archer slowly turned on his own axis, searching the gloomy forest for any sign of movement. When the woods stayed silent and no further sound reached his ears, he lowered his bow and took a deep breath.

_Surely an animal._

When Legolas turned to wake his friend, he saw a movement to his left out of the corner of his eye. Faster than lightening he spun on his heels, lifted his bow and aimed at the forest besides him.

There was nothing; no movement, no sound. Frowning, the archer took a step towards the trees, then stopped again and listened intently. For a few minutes he just stood there, his bow raised, but nothing reached neither his eyes nor his ears and after a few more moments, he shrugged slightly, turned and woke his friend for his watch.

Estel yawned, rubbed his eyes and, tightening his cloak around his shoulders, sank down on the log to watch over his brothers and friend.

Before he drifted off into the realms of elven sleep, the blond haired elf had one last thought.

_It was just an animal, nothing more, just an animal. No need to tell them._

He would soon notice how wrong he had been in this assumption.

--oOo--

Morning dawned cold, the clear and cloudless night had cooled the earth. A fine grey mist was creeping over the lands, reaching not higher than the waist, the clouds of mist snuck through the trees and over the open plains between the Bruinen and the Mitheithel.

Slowly Arnor woke and sent her shining rays down to the earth, the weak light reflecting from the misty cover, painting the world a glorious gold. Early birds began their songs and the ranger directed his gaze towards the spectacle around him, enjoying the silence of the morning and the glow of the autumn sunrise.

Before the mist had vanished completely, they packed up their camp and mounted their horses. It was still a full day's ride to Imladris and if they wanted to reach it before supper, they had to set out early.

They crossed the Ford around noon and just as dusk reached the borders of the elven realm, they spotted the inviting lights of the Last Homely House which lay deep in the hidden valley, surrounded by ancient trees and nestled into the side of a steep cliff, a mighty waterfall cascading down beside it.

They stopped their horses on a small hill overlooking the Last Homely House and the courtyard. For a moment nobody said anything, but then Elrohir flashed an evil grin at his human brother. Slapping him on his shoulder and spurring on his mount, the younger twin said: "Come, oh mighty ranger. There is a tale to tell of your bravery and courage, young warrior."

And before Estel had even time to throw his brother a warning, or rather pleading, look, the twins had rode on towards their home, both grinning broadly.

Groaning, Estel let his head hang in despair, and then, only a moment later he lifted it and directed his pleading eyes at his friend who sat on his horse beside his own.

"Legolas, do me a favour. Kill me."

Smiling wide, Legolas, too, slapped the man on the shoulder.

"Oh, come now mellon nin. How bad will it get?" And with that he spurred his horse on and followed the twins into the cobblestone courtyard, leaving a grumbling ranger behind.

Estel took another long suffering sigh before he made his way down to his home.

_How bad can it get? You have no idea, Legolas, you have no idea. The twins will pay for that, I swear._

And with that thought the young man rode into the courtyard, where his father stood to greet them. This would be a long evening, he was sure of that.

--oOo--

A hooded figure watched as the four riders crossed the stone bridge and rode into the vast courtyard, his eyes never straying from them until they were hidden by the walls and trees. Turning away from the scene, the figure stepped back into the darkness from where it came.

_Soon, soon they will all know of what I am capable. But then it will be too late for them to stop it._

_End of chapter 2_

_Chapter 3 is called "The journey begins"_


	4. 3 Revenge

**Title: The Roots of Evil **(Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter

**For Disclaimer/Summery/Warnings etc, please see chapter 1/2! Thanks!**

**Beta: Trini Yay!**

**A/N: **Many thanks to all my reviewser /huggles reviewers/. Many thaks toviggomaniac, invisigoth3, greeneyedelf001, QueenofFlamphgal, Laire, Deana, Tommylover, IwishChan and the one I just saw and forgotten (sorry!) I hope you all like this chapter!

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"_Oh beautiful laugh, oh merry tale –_

_oh sweet revenge, I honor thee!"_

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**Chapter 3 "Revenge"**

As Estel had predicted, the terrible two had told the story of the incident over and over again, with each time exaggerated so much more that in the end even Legolas had to admit that the story sounded more like a fairy tale.

The next few days were spent in the Last Homely House, the seat of tranquillity and calmness, the centre of peace and stillness of heart. But no matter how much they wished to stop the hands of time, they could not, and too soon Estel and Legolas had to pack their things to head out into the big world again. The prince had to travel home to his father's kingdom and Estel had to return to the rangers of the north.

The evening before their departure, as was custom, was spent with family and friends, feasting on a delicious meal and drinking from the finest wine and smelling the wildest herbs and sweetest flowers.

Late that evening the young human bid his family and friend goodnight and went to bed. The next day would be long, as he and Legolas would ride east towards the Misty Mountains. Once there, their ways would part. The elf would cross the looming mountains on the High Pass and go to the forest of the elven kingdom and the ranger would head north, in the direction of the Ettenmoors, where one of the rangers' outposts was stationed.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, the young man smiled slightly. The day had been perfect; glorious morning, a fine afternoon, a homely evening in the company of his family and friends. Sometimes life could be just as you wished for it to be. Grinning wider, Estel pushed back from the door at his back and walked to his window to take a look at the sleeping village and the deep valley that spread under his gaze. The serenity was complete.

_But not for much longer I guess._

Chuckling softly, the man stepped onto his balcony and waited. It might have been days since the twins had last told the tale of 'The mighty warrior', but Estel had not yet forgotten how he had felt every time the elves around him began to smile and grin, to chuckle and snicker when he drew near. And he had sworn that his brothers would pay. And pay, they would.

I wonder when… 

Before the man could finish this thought, his excellent hearing detected soft voices coming from the corridor, then the rustling of robes and the voices of his foster brothers as they bade each other goodnight.

The rooms of the twin sons of Elrond were positioned next to the ranger's own room, one on the left side, one on the right side. It had been this way since the day the small and tiny, scared human had entered their lives, who woke in the deepest night, riddled by horrid nightmares, who had suffered from fevers and illnesses, who needed to be held and soothed many times in the past, when he had been a child.

With the passing of the years, the nightmares had vanished, leaving behind only a stale aftertaste, a memory of times long gone. Nevertheless, they had never changed rooms, the nearness of his brothers giving him a feeling of security and familiarity. And today, having his brothers so close to his own room meant sweet revenge.

_It can't take that long now anymore. They go to the shelves on the wall, then the window, closing it, the water basin, towel…they go to their beds and then…_

Two identical muffled screams reached his ears and the ranger grinned almost sadistically. He knew his brothers as well as he knew himself and he had known what they would do. It was not hard to guess as they had followed the same evening ritual pattern for as long as he could remember.

Coughs and choked screams floated through the walls to his ears, now and then he heard his name being called, admittedly in a rather angry and upset voice.

Still smiling broadly, Estel turned away from the serenity of the valley before him and went to his door.

_Won't miss the sight of them! Oh, they have paid!_

Just as he was about to open it, the wood flew open with such a force that it banged into the opposite wall, the wood creaking slightly at the rough treatment. Lifting his head to look at who had nearly massacred the door, Estel's eyes widened and before he could say anything two very angry elves entered his bedroom.

Elrohir was fuming: "Estel! What….what is this?"

Hard pressed not to laugh straight in his brother's face, the man took on an indifferent look and asked calmly: "What is what, brother?"

"I'll kill you, human!" And with that said, both twins took a menacing step in the direction of their little brother, hands raised and ready to throttle the by now retreating ranger.

Elladan and Elrohir, both already dressed in their sleeping tunics, literally looked as if they had fallen into a barrel of flour. Their formerly dark brown hair was white as snow, their faces were white as well, but sparkles of grey and yellow could be seen, their skin had turned a rather interesting shade of orange and red as well and their tunics were splattered with what looked like vegetable soup ingredients.

Just as the two seething elves had the man where they wanted him, with his back against a wall and nowhere to go, a small chuckle came from the still open door.

"May I ask what all the tumult is all about? I know that the two of you do not need beauty sleep as no one can sleep that much, but other elves are trying to sleep."

Taking the momentary inattention of his brothers to sneak past them, Estel reached the door and his Mirkwood friend within seconds. Once secure of the twins' hands and wrath, he looked at Legolas and stated calmly, as if he was talking about the weather, his face still belying his happy mood.

"Oh, my dear friend, that is an interesting story indeed. I was trying to rest my weary body as these two," he casually waved his hands at the twins who looked as if they would tear their brother in two with bare hands, "stormed into my room, over and over "dirty" and "filthy". Not looking like elf lords should, mind you. If you ask me, in my humble opinion, my dear brothers have either lost their minds," the twins took a step forward and the man took a step back, standing now between the two angry elves and the prince, "or have tasted their own medicine."

Taking a step out into the hall and turning in the direction of the stairways, his entire being ready to run, he smiled wickedly at his brothers and said grinning: "By the way, the powder was made out of rose hip and tingling mushrooms." That said, the ranger fled the scene as fast as he could, laughing so hard that he never heard the curses that the twins called after him. He did hear, however, his brothers chasing him down the stairs.

Laughing like he had not done in a long time, he raced out of the house and soon vanished into the night, the twins hot on his heels, from time to time scratching here and there.

Smiling wide and chuckling, the blond archer shook his head in amusement, his long golden tresses swinging with the movement. Pushing himself from the wall the two brothers had pushed him against, in their attempt to both cross the threshold at the same time, the archer headed slowly down the stairs, after his friends. With those two, one could never know what they would do to their poor brother.

_Oh my friend, this time they will not let you off the hook so easily. If, no, when they catch you, they will tear you limb from limb. Really Estel, rose hip and tingling mushroom?_

Legolas chuckled softly as he reached the wide entrance hall and made for the huge oak door that would lead him out into the night.

Oh, the twins will itch for days! This combination is even new to me! I just hope they let Estel live. 

Still grinning, the prince made his way into the dark and gloomy garden, flickering torches the only source of light. The night was cool and the moon partly hidden behind gray clouds, but here and there the small silver stars twinkled down merrily onto the sleeping earth.

Stopping at the bottom of the wide marble stairs that led to the oak door, he tilted his head to the side and listened intently for any sounds.

_Where could they have gone?_

After a few moments, Legolas slowly made his way up the nearest garden path, venturing deeper into the gardens and away from the house. Wherever the man had gone, one thing was certain, the garden were a better hiding ground than the house. Taking a deep breath and tucking a wayward strand of blond hair behind a finely pointed ear, the elf walked down the path and into the night.

The single hoot of an owl echoes through the darkness, carried on a slight breeze. The trees loomed like giants around him and when the archer stepped over a white stone bridge that span over a gurgling stream, the clouds released the silver moon and a silver glow spread over the earth.

Stopping in his tracks as looking at the silver watcher, the elf felt the serenity of the valley flood through him and his senses found peace while he stood there.

Nevertheless, this tranquility was short lived.

A soft rustling sound to his right alerted Legolas to the presence of another and when he spun around to face whoever was hiding in the bushes, he saw a dark figure emerge from the shadows.

_Ah, here you are Estel…_

The man was sprinkled with needles, brown leaves sticking out of his dark hair at odd angles. It almost seemed as if he had sprung behind –or rather into the bushes- to evade his brothers. Looking left and right over his shoulders, Estel reached the archer´s side, his eyes never leaving his surroundings.

"Mh, you haven´t seen my brothers, have you, mellon nin?"

"No, not since they ran out of your room, looking like vegetable pastries." And in his most sweet voice the elf added: "Why?"

Estel swallowed nervously. "Oh, I was just asking. Elrohir yelled something like ´N´ndengina ho (Don´t kill him), he is mine to kill, muindor!"

Legolas was hard pressed not to laugh in his friend´s face. Sometimes the twins could be real frightening.

Suppressing his giggles, Legolas eyed the man who stood beside him. Estel was constantly looking over his shoulder, his whole stance spoke of tension and flight. It seemed the joke he had pulled had turned back on him.

His eyes twinkling, the prince suddenly tilted his blond head to the side, listening. Seeing the gesture, the ranger turned big eyes on his friend: "What? Can you hear them? Are they coming?"

Nodding, the archer grinned at the man. "From where, Legolas?"

"From the brigde."

Faster than most humans could, the man darted away in the other direction, leaving behind him only trampled grass.

Only a second later two angry looking elves sprinted over the white bridge and seeing the prince, halted before him.

"Legolas, have you seen this little maggot that calls himself our brother?" Elladan asked hurriedly while scratching his chest.

Meanwhile, Elrohir was trying to penetrate the surrounding trees and bushes with his gray eyes while vigorously scratching his shoulder.

_Time to teach young Estel a little lesson._

Smirking at the twins, the prince lifted his arm and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

It was all the brothers needed and the next second they had rushed past the archer, both yelling loud enough for the whole of Imladris (and surely Estel) to hear: "Thank you Legolas!"

And as he heard the next words of the twins, the blond haired prince crinched and hurriedly followed the twins to make sure that his human friend survived the night.

"Now he is going to pay, Dan. I am going to strangle him."

"Not if I throw him off the cliffs first."

It seemed the twins had taken the prank rather badly.

Running past bushes of sweet smelling jasmin and ignoring the white blossoming night flowers that lined the path, the archer followed the twins´ steps as fast as he could. Now and then avoiding a long hanging branch, he soon came to an Y- shaped crossing. Halting in his steps, the elf looked left and right. Where to go?

Suddenly he heard a low noise coming from the left and with a swooshing sound the prince sprinted in the direction the sound had come from. Soon the first sound was followed by a second, nearer this time.

_This left seems right…_

When he reached the garden, lying dark and gloomy before him, here and there illuminated by flickering torches, the moon the only other source of light, the silver watcher casting his eyes onto the sleeping earth, the wood elf made his way in the direction of one of the many small bridges that spread over the countless streams that flowed through the valley, their dark water glimmering in the moonlight and reflecting the tinkling stars.

The nearer he came, the louder the voices became and before he had reached the three brothers, a loud yell could be heard.

"Estel, stop squirming you little worm! I know no mercy!"

_Elladan…_

"Oho, see how he winds and squirms. Hold him El'!"

_Elrohir…_

Frowning, the prince strained his ears to hear more, the twins were not really hurting the man, were they? The joke had been mean, yes, but still…they had deserved it.

Coming closer and stepping from behind the dark bush onto an open space between the beginning of a bridge and a wide stream, the prince froze. He sighed inwardly and then grinned mischievously.

_Oh my friend, you will truly pay for this one._

There before him, the brothers had wrestled their younger brother to the ground. Elladan was practically sitting on the man's legs, pinning them down; Elrohir kneeled at the man's head and was holding the ranger's arms, securing them behind his head. The twins had sentenced the young human to the worst penalty ever. It was only dealt out in very severe cases of humility and revenge…or when the twins were bored.

Now near enough to hear the human's voice, Legolas was hard pressed not to laugh out loud.

"El´, please….no,no! El´, no, please,….no….more….can't…..take…..any…..more, El´…." The rest of the sentence was drowned out by another bout of hysterical giggling and laughter coming from the ranger. Gasping for breath a moment later, Estel tried to loosen his brother's hold on his arms, to no avail, as Elladan resumed his task and another wave of uncontrollable laughing erupted from the man's mouth

The terrible twins had resorted to their meanest way of dealing with their brother: Extreme tickling!

A few minutes later the older elf stopped his movements and when his brother had regained his breath, he asked calmly, whilst scratching the back of his nose: "Do you yield, human?"

Raising his eyebrow, the man seemed to consider this question and then answered mockingly: "To you? Never!" And with that said, Estel drew his legs up to his chest, effectively pushing his eldest brother from his body and with the same momentum he managed to squirm out of Elrohir´s grip. Scrambling to his feet, the man made for the stone bridge, chuckling softly.

"Oh no, you just wait!" With that Elladan was on his feet, ready to run after the escaping ranger, but his elven brother was faster. In a fluent movement the younger twin threw his body around and when Estel passed him he thrust out his arm, catching the ranger at his leg, barring his way.

The man stumbled, not having seen the arm. He swayed on his feet, his balance lost. Not able to regain control of his running body, he felt the ground under him tilt to the side and before he had had the time to do anything least of all to catch his fall, he crashed to the ground, unyielding stone meeting his head, the cold and hard stone bridge under his body.

He fell and did not move anymore.

The next moment the older twin was over him, still oblivious to the situation. Pinning the man under his weight and grinning, he mocked his younger brother: "See? No one escapes from us; you should have listened when I told you that. Now, do you yield?"

When he got no reaction, his brother lying still and unmoving under him, Elladan frowned and tilted his head to look into the man's face. "Estel?" When once more no answer came forward, the eldest Peredhel shifted his weight to his knees and then, slowly, turned his human brother onto his back. "Estel!" he gasped.

Surprised by his twin's reaction, Elrohir moved to the bridge and when he looked over Elladan´s shoulder at his human brother's face he, too, gasped.

Legolas had watched the scene unfold before his eyes. The twins had shown no mercy and had tickled the ranger without second thought. They loved doing that. It was a way of getting revenge without hurting anyone and, at least in their opinion, it was a punishment well worth of admiration.

When his friend had jumped to his feet, the elf had felt a minute flash of pride inside of him at his friend. How did he always manage to escape from hopeless situations? Smiling at the brothers, the archer had stood in the shadows, waiting for the next episode of this game. But what had come then had been nothing he had thought about.

When the elder twin had gasped and called his brother's name, his tone shocked and worried, the prince had stepped out from the bushes, his feet carrying him to his friend's side in seconds.

Elladan, who was still kneeling over the unmoving ranger, was still calling his human brother's name, willing him to come back to the world of the living, but it seemed he had been unsuccessful so far.

Elrohir had knelt at the man's other side, examining the small, but heavily bleeding head wound on his brother's forehead. It seemed the man had hit his head on the stones when he had fallen, knocking him unconscious.

Sinking down near the ranger, Legolas glanced at the twins. Both wore faces full of worry and fear, all joy and joking was gone, their brows furrowed in concern. Reaching into his tunic pocket, Legolas took out a piece of fabric, which he normally carried to polish his arrow heads, and gently pressed it on the wound to stop the blood flow.

The water gurgled merrily under them, undisturbed by the events that played out above it and had the three elves looked at the flowing water, they would have seen the silver stars reflect on the surface, the moon shining brightly in the dark waters.

As it was, they did not see it and only when Estel moved slightly and moaned softly, did they breathe a sigh of relief.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" Elladan´s voice was leaden with worry.

"Oh yes, no need to yell like…like you just did."

Estel lifted his hand to his head to feel for the source of the throbbing pain and when his fingertips met the fabric that Legolas had placed there, he frowned and moaned again. "Ada will kill me."

Shaking his head and smiling reassuringly, the younger twin answered: "No, Estel. Ada will kill all of us. Be thankful that you have such a thick skull, muindor nin (my brother)"

"Well, now I feel better." Getting into a sitting position with the help of his brothers and the supporting hand of Legolas in his back, the man shook his head softly, as if to get the cobwebs out of it. When he neither flinched nor grimaced, the elves took this as a good sign and before Estel had time to protest, he was lifted up onto his feet, his arms supported by his brothers and Legolas steadying his back.

Encouraged as the man did not sway on his feet, the three elves sighed relieved and after a reassuring nod from Estel, they released his arms and they all made their way back to the Last Homely House, the night fresh but not cold yet.

From time to time Elladan and Elrohir would sneak their hands to different parts of their bodies to scratch the itching spots. Seeing this and feeling quiet secure in his current position, with a head wound and all, Estel said casually: "Oh, and just for you to know, I did not yield. Just for the records."

Had the man been able to see the prince's face, he would have seen an elf who was hard pressed to not laugh out loud. His brother's faces however looked rather evil at this very moment, their eyes gleaming. They did not know it, but both had the same thought in that very moment.

_He will pay for this one. Dearly._

Little did they know that they would all come to regret this thought later.

_--oOo-- _

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So, what do you think? Btw, do you like smaller or long chapter? I was just wondering...

Oh andcome on now, What do you think, can we hit the 20 reviews mark with this chapter? Hm? (nudges readers) Come on, I know you want it too (g).

Chapter 4 is called: The journey begins.


	5. 4 The journey begins

**Title: The Roots of Evil **_(Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter)_

**Chapter**: 4 "The journey begins"

**For Warnings/Rating/Summery/Disclaimer, please see chapter 1/2. Thank you!**

**Beta: Wanted! **

**A/N: **Ai, I am very sorry it took me so long to update. Normally I post every week, but real life can sometimes be a real orc and throw you down and you need time to scramble back to your feet and even more time to find the button for the coffee machine and the cups and the milk and then the time and quietness to let you mind wander, free of said orc and stress and your bad hair day and the Professor who stated so calmly that he expects you to read the whole book till end of the week and you have only just read the Introduction. Alas, I wish that orc would concentrate on someone else, just for once!

As it is, I have lost my beta and I therefore apologize for the inevitable mistakes in this and the coming chapters, as English is not my native tongue. I am trying to do my best.

Many thanks for the reviews, they are what keep me going, and with the new "reply" function, life is so much easier.

So, enough rambling, you have waited long enough for this chapter.

Imaginigma :o)

_italics _are thoughts

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"_Even the longest journey begins with the first step._

_The question is, will you ever return?"_

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_Chapter 4 "The journey begins"_

Breakfast the next morning was a strange affair. The "little scratch" on the man's forehead had turned a rather interesting shade of blue and green, the wound not large but a huge bruise had formed and although Estel claimed that it did not hurt him, it looked painful.

As every morning, the young ranger had entered the dining area fully dressed – and hungry. His brothers had been already seated, together with his father and the golden haired advisor Glorfindel. The prince, it seemed, was late. Nodding in his father's direction and greeting with a "Good morning, ada. I hope you have slept well.", the human sat down on his stool and helped himself to his breakfast as if there was no bruise adorning his face at all.

One look at the guilty faces of the twins was all the elven lord needed to know that the young ones had, once again, gone off to do something foolish. Sighing inwardly, Elrond put down his cup of sweet clover tea and waited patiently until his youngest son met his eyes.

Raising his eyebrow in question and biting heartily into his honey flavored roll of bread, the man seemed to wait for his father to speak. Seeing that no explanation was forthcoming, the elven lord cleared his throat.

"Estel, do I want to know?"

"Want to know about what precisely, ada?" Smiling innocently, the ranger took a sip of his tea before he continued, still smiling warmly.

"Do not worry, ada. Elladan and Elrohir will stop behaving as if they had flea soon enough. One of their antics, you see."

Deliberately ignoring the twin's killing looks, he turned to his bread again and munched on happily, but not after throwing an amused look in the direction of Legolas´ still empty stool, the corners of his mouth twitching dangerously. After another probing look in his youngest´ direction, Elrond sighed again inwardly.

_I will get gray hairs when these are around for much longer. No, I think I do not want to know._

A few moments later the Mirkwood archer entered the dining hall, dressed in his green leather outfit that he preferred for traveling, the silver stitches at the hem of his sleeves the only indication of his royal status. Greeting the elves and the human, Legolas seated himself in his usual stool opposite of the man and helped himself to tea and fresh fruits.

"Did you sleep well, mellon nin?" Estel asked sweetly some minutes later.

"Yes, thank you. And I hope you slept well, too."

Smiling, the ranger nodded and then turned to his brothers. "Dan, have I already told you about the merits of resin? You can do wonderful things with it."

His head spanned up so quickly that Legolas nearly spilled his hot tea over the table top. What was Estel doing?

But the man seemed to ignore the elf and calmly nodded at his brother's questioning look. "Oh, yes Dan. You can use it for many different things. For example, I have heard that you can use resin while braiding."

Now positively alarmed, the Wood elf set down his cup of tea and swallowed nervously. What was this all about? Why was his friend talking about resin?

Wracking his brain for the reason behind the human's behavior, the prince blanched slightly.

_Oh no. He has heard the twins yesterday night. He is going to tell them. Oh please,…they will never let me live that one done. Not in one thousand years._

But it seemed Estel had no inclination to tell his brothers about the little incident. Taking another sip of his tea, the ranger continued. "You can use it for other things, too. You could use it to…uhm…punish traitors." And with an evil smirk adorning his face, the human turned in Legolas´ direction.

"Does your tea taste well, mellon nin?"

_The tea? Had Estel put resin in the "tea"?_

Eyeing his cup warily, Legolas set his cup down quickly and nodded: "Aye, it tastes delicious, as always."

"Good. You are not eating. Are you finished?"

"Uhm, yes." Not even an angry troll would be able to make him eat anything from the table. With Estel, one could never know. And eating something that contained resin was not on Legolas´ wish list for this morning.

Grinning sweetly, his face a mask of pure innocence which could fool one, the ranger stood from his stool and motioned in his friend's direction. "Fine. Then lets go. There is still a lot to ready before we can leave."

The prince knew the man long enough to know that this was bad. He knew that "look". It meant that doom was approaching, no, that doom had already crossed the doorstep and was rubbing its hands in anticipation of the coming destruction and chaos. And this time, it had come for him.

Feeling the hairs on his neck stand on end, the elf nodded, took a deep breath and stood to his feet.

At least, he wanted to.

Out of a reason totally unknown to him, Legolas was still sitting. Frowning, he tried it again. Nothing.

"Legolas, is everything all right with you? You seem pale, mellon nin."

One look at Estel´s innocent face was all the elf needed.

_I am going to kill you, Estel. You will pay for this, I swear. How could you?_

Resting his hands on the arms of his wooden chair and knowing full well that now all eyes rested on him, the archer tried once more to get to his feet. All he achieved was that the stool lifted with him from the floor, the wood making some creaking noises in the otherwise complete stillness.

"Uhm, Legolas, is this the new fashion out of Mirkwood? Elf-on-stool?" It seemed the older twin was quite amused with the younger elf's predicament.

Feeling his cheeks blush with embarrassment, he let the stool crash down on the floor again.

This time it was Elrond´s turn to comment: "Estel, I assume this is your doing?"

The young human grinned widely, the mask of innocence gone from his face and replaced by pure glee. "Yes, ada. As I have told Dan already, resin has many merits. One of them is that it glues nearly everything."

Sighing, the elven Lord threw a look at the embarrassed looking prince: "Estel, I think I do not want to know why you did this, but please, help your friend now."

Although the lord was calm outside, a little annoyed maybe, he had a hard time to restrain the grin that wanted to escape his lips. It would not do to encourage his sons in their pranks.

Nodding, the ranger eyed his brothers questioningly. Sharing a quick look with each other, Elladan and Elrohir stood from their chairs and slowly advanced on the helpless archer. Seeing the vicious gleam in the twins´ eyes and knowing that things had turned from bad to worse, Legolas lifted his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Uhm, my friends, whatever is on your mind, please remember that I am a guest in this house."

Elrohir threw his twin an amused look before he turned to his blond friend: "Oh really? Well, if that is the case, then I think we should adapt our behavior. Should we not brother?"

And with that said, the twins scooped down and lifted the chair including Legolas high into the air, eliciting a surprised yelp from the latter.

"Elladan, Elrohir, what do you think you are doing? Let me down!"

But the brothers just smiled happily and slowly marched out of the hall, a laughing ranger following them.

"Legolas, why do you complain? We are just adapting our behavior to the royal status of our _guest_, _Your Highness_." Elladan´s tone was one of pure mockery.

"Yes, my prince. Does a royal elf not deserve to be carried on other's shoulders? Surely you are not used to walking, _Your Highness_." Elrohir matched his brother's tone perfectly.

And had Estel been able to say something, he would have said something similar. But as it was, he was holding his sides and shook so heavily with laughter that he had problems keeping on his feet.

When the four had left the hall, the twins constantly mocking the prince and Legolas claiming diplomatic immunity to save him from the fate that was bestowed upon him, the two elder elves shared a meaningful look.

Glorfindel´s eyes were twinkling merrily and an amused smile had appeared on his face.

"Young ones."

"Young ones indeed." Not able to suppress his chuckles any longer, Elrond´s lips twitched and soon he and his advisor were giggling like elflings.

--oOo--

Just as the golden haired advisor stepped out of the dining hall into the entrance hall, the huge oak door was thrown open and a sopping wet wood elf crossed the threshold, water running down his hair and face, his green clothing dripping onto the stone floor.

One look into the younger elf's face was all the famous Balrog slayer needed to step out of his way quickly and not to ask what had happened. Legolas stormed up the stairs, his leather shoes making squelching noises on the steps and with every step he left a trail of clear water behind.

Lifting an eyebrow, the advisor stepped to the front door, and when he looked out he saw the three brothers coming towards the house, laughing hysterically and Elrohir carrying the wooden stool; the seat spotting a bit of green fabric.

Waiting until the three had reached him and calmed down enough to speak, Glorfindel just raised his eyebrow at them.

Still grinning, the man answered the unspoken question. "The pond."

Sighing, Glorfindel let the brothers pass through the door and turned to make his way to his study, chuckling softly.

_Young ones…_

--oOo--

The sun was shining down on the courtyard, warming the cold stones and making the greens and browns of the trees shimmer in an autumn gleam. After dressing in fresh cloths, Legolas and Estel had packed their things and readied their horses, the latter giggling from time to time and the former throwing murderous looks at the human.

Now, all that they would need was packed, the animals saddled and eager to leave. The steeds stood before the stable and snorted softly, their reigns held by a stable guard.

Knowing it was time to go and say farewell, the archer patted his horse's neck and then made his way over to the Lord of this elven haven.

Stepping up to Lord Elrond, Legolas extended his arm in the formal greeting and the two elves clasped their forearms in the formal elven gesture of farewell.

"May the sun shine on your face and the wind be on your back, young Greenleaf. And may the Valar guide you home safely."

"May the Valar protect you and your home, hir nin (my Lord)."

Embracing Legolas in his strong arms, Elrond smiled at him and wished him a good journey and bade him to sent a messenger bird as soon as he had arrived at the palace, as it would ease his heart greatly to know of his safe arrival.

Smiling in return, Legolas promised to do just that, then stepped aside to give his friend and his father a bit of privacy. Strolling to the patiently waiting horses, the archer wondered for a short moment about the twins. He had not seen them since the meal and they were not in the courtyard either. Shrugging, he suggested they would have on of their "special entrances", as usual.

Seeing his foster father stand before him, the wide red robes, the gentle face, the dark brown hair that was braided so neatly, Estel could not shake the odd feeling that had settled in his stomach. Breathing deeply and banishing his feeling into the back of his being, the man stepped up to his father and bowed slightly.

"Ion nin (my son), may the rain never plague you and the wind not fight with you. May the stars be at your service and the trees be your friends while you wander under the sky. And may the Valar protect you and bring you home to me safe and sound again."

"May the Valar calm your heart and sooth your dreams in my absence. May you find peace and comfort while you await my return, hir nin (my lord)."

Smiling at each other, father and son embraced each other in a tight hug, before Elrond drew back a little and rested his forehead at his son's, looking eyes with him. "Be careful, Estel. Please promise me that."

"I will be careful ada. I promise."

Satisfied but not relieved of his fatherly worry, the lord let his forehead linger one moment longer, then drew back and straightened again, his eyes full of love for his son.

"I know it might be difficult, Strider, but please try to sent me a note once you arrive at the base camp."

Using his son's "ranger" name, Elrond once more tired to erect an invisible wall between him and his son. He did not do it to shield his son from him, nor to put a real distance between them. No, it was rather a mechanism he applied to separate Estel from Strider. If Estel was out there, the elf's heart would find no rest, neither during the day, nor in the nights. But knowing that Strider was out there, the capable ranger, good with sword and bow, with other rangers to look after him, he would be able to at least find some peace of mind. If not very much.

Sensing his father's attempt, the ranger bowed again in the formal gesture and nodded. "I will try hir nin."

Taking a quick look around the courtyard, the human turned questioning eyes on his father. Where were the twins? But all his father did was smile enigmatically and just as the man had turned and walked back to the horses, two more steeds appeared from the stables, led by the twins, already packed with their bags and weapons.

Raising his eyebrows in question, Elrohir answered his younger brother's unspoken question cheerfully: "You don't really think that you could pull such a prank and then leave quietly like a thief in the night, do you? We will come with you and Legolas."

"Aye, just to make sure the two of you will not get lost in the woods," his older brother added, smiling.

Lifting his head to the sun minutely, Estel stared at his foster brothers. "Firstly, it is early morning, and not at night. Secondly, I am not leaving quietly. Thirdly, you deserve the itching powder, and last but not least, if one gets lost in the woods than it is you two and not Legolas and I."

"So, and who was it that got lost on our latest hunting trip? The mighty ranger, if I do remember correctly."

"Elladan, I did not get lost, the short cut just turned out to be longer than expected."  
"Sure, so long that Ro and I had to go get you."

"I knew exactly where I had been. And I was perfectly capable of dealing with the few orcs."

"Few? Estel, there were nearly twenty. And they had already disarmed you."

"See, that is your mistake. Perhaps I "wanted" them to disarm me. It was a tactic."

"A tactic? Estel, if you…."

A heavy sigh behind them caught their attention and they stopped bickering. Turning, Estel and Elladan saw that Elrohir and Legolas had already mounted their horses. While Elrohir grinned at them, Legolas threw them an exasperated but amused look.

"Are the two ladies finally finished with gossiping around? If we want to reach the Misty Mountains ere spring again re-claims these lands, we should get going."

"Ladies?"

"Gossip?"

Nevertheless, man and elf quickly mounted their own horses, Elladan having bade his father farewell before doing so, the small party nodded once more at the elven lord, then turned their mounts and headed out of the cobblestone courtyard, cleared the old stone bridge and were soon swallowed by the autumn colored forest that surrounded the Last Homely House.

Shortly before Estel vanished out of view, he turned in his saddle to look back at the figure of his father, who still stood in the courtyard, as he always did when his sons left the protected home. Smiling slightly, Estel lifted his right arm in farewell, and just before the forest barred his view at his father, the man was sure to have seen the elf wave back, a thing the elven lord normally never did.

--oOo--

The hooded figure pressed its body at the weathered tree trunk, his form nearly invisible due to his green and brown cloak. It melted with its surroundings and only when the being moved could it be seen. But it did not move.

Silently waiting and unmoving, the tall man watched as the four horses and riders crossed the stone bridge and then entered the great forest that guarded the elven village. And when one of the riders, the youngest and sole mortal soul of the group, turned in his saddle and lifted his arm in a farewell gesture, the man could not refrain from grinning wickedly.

_This will not only be a farewell for you, my "friend", this will be you final farewell. Oh, I can see it before my eyes. You will suffer, boy, until your very end. Pray that those "fine" elves have enough mercy in their hearts to kill you, it would be the only chance for you to dye a swift death._

As the riders neared his position, the man crouched down low, drew his cloak over his head and vanished in the underbrush. None of the riders saw or heard him, they just passed without so much as looking in his direction.

_Patience, you need patience. Let them pass, let them go and feel safe. Your time will come, they cannot stay together for all eternity…_

It took a moment until the paradox of his own thought dawned on him and when it did, he grinned evilly.

_No, they definitely cannot. Not if I have to say a word in this matter. And I have._

Silently as a cat in the night, the tall man stood to his full height, his hood sliding from his head and revealing white hair and a thin face with chiseled features, red eyes that bored into the back of the riders, one in particular. Had one of the four looked back, they would have seen him standing there, but none did and when they rounded behind a bend in the forest road, the hooves crunching dry and fallen leaves under them, the man had already vanished, leaving no sign that he had ever been there.

Rushing through the woods, the white haired man sneaked a hand under his cloak and let his fingers play over the rough surface of the leather satchel that he carried hidden under it.

_Soon, soon. It is time to summon the others. Their time has come to pay their debts towards me as well. A poacher, a hunter, a killer. Not bad. No, not bad at all._

And with that, the man disappeared into the forest, a shower of red and golden leaves that floated to the ground the only witness that he still existed.

Because he should have died three years ago. Plummeting to his death in a deep chasm in a stormy spring night, when the thunder boomed and the lightening stroke.

End of chapter 4

Tbc

Chapter 5 is called "One last night"

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So, what do you think? Now the angst will begin and my dear readers I can tell you, it will be a rollercoaster ride for them all. 

Imaginigma :o)


	6. 5 One last night

**Title: The Roots of Evil **(Sequel to Delw Yomenie – Deadly encounter)

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, Summery, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter: **5 "One last night"

**Beta: Misty (hannon le!)**

**A/N:** Dear readers, due to some (expletive) network problems, I cannot send replies to reviews right now, butI will do that as soon as I am online for longer than 10 minutes. Promise! So, now the fun (ahem) begins for the friends. Over is the laughter and bickering...well no, actually not really, well, you'll see.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter. If all goes as planned (does it ever?) the next chapter will be up next thursday.

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"_From the shadows they come: they see you, they hear you, they smell you_

…_they'll kill you."_

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Chapter 5 "One last night"

The days of their journey towards the Misty Mountains passed slowly, the trees becoming more colorful with each day. The sun still shone brightly from the clear blue sky, but the warmth it was providing faded as fast as the daylight did in these glorious autumn days.

Wherever they looked, their eyes saw brown and red leaves, the treetops were still shining green here and there and the most beautiful trees shone in a vibrant red.. And when the evening sun settled over the lands the forest shone in a blood red, making it look as if a fire was burning from within.

The nights had become colder and the friends lit a fire each night to keep them warm and to prepare their food. Then they would sit under the cloudless sky, a flickering fire before them and warm tea in their hands. The wind played with the flames and would from time to time send glowing sparks flying into the evening sky. The stars twinkled down on them from between the trees and the shadows that surrounded them were neither dangerous nor threatening, but calming and soothing.

For days they had ridden through the energetic woodland, side by side, sharing stories of times long gone or just riding in a comfortable silence. The weather soothed their souls and when they crossed a small stream and saw the fish jump out of the water as if to greet them, they smiled at each other and felt complete. If only all times could have been like these.

On the fourth day of their journey and the last before their ways would part in the morning, the twins rode up to their brother and friend who were riding at the front and talking silently. Once Elladan´s horse had caught up toEstel and Elrohir had made his way to the other side of Estel as well, effectively barring the man's way to the side, the twins grinned at the suspicious looking ranger. After a wink in Legolas´ direction, they spoke almost in unison.

"So…"

"So, what?" This did not bode well.

"So Estel, tell us how you did it."

"Did what, Elladan?"

"Oh now come, tithen muindor (little brother), you know what we are speaking of. How did you get the tingling powder to "explode"?"

"Oh, it did?" Estel sounded as if he was really surprised at his brother's statement, but he was not able to hide his smirk and when he saw the archer's raised eyebrow, he gave in and explained.

"It was easy, my brothers. And, truth be told, it was Legolas here who told me how to do it."

"Legolas? And I thought you were our friend!" The mock indignation in Elrohir´s voice was clearly audible.

"Me?" Legolas pointed one of his delicate fingers at his chest, and then shook his head vehemently. "No, I never told you how to pull this prank on your brothers, Estel." And in the direction of the twins: "Truly, I never did!"

"Oh, but you did, my friend." And when the prince once more shook his head no with confusion written on his features, the man smiled at him sweetly. "Legolas, do you remember the day, after we came back from the Chetwood, when we were in the training fields and you showed me how to sharpen my arrow tips so that they would not slide off from tree trunks so easily?"

A guarded "Yes…" came from the blond elf.

"And do you remember what we talked about back then?"

Legolas frowned and then he said slowly, thinking: "I told you about the methods the Mirkwood warriors use to fight the huge spiders, that we not only use our bows but that we also…oh." Realization dawned on the elf and when his eyes widened, he saw a grinning and nodding human between two glaring elves and when he caught the twin's gazes all he could utter was "Oops."

"Oops, Legolas? Is that all you say for your defense?" Elladan playfully laid his hand on the hilt of his sword and Elrohir did the same, both of them looking as if they were ready to behead the poor elf.

Had Legolas not known the twins for centuries, he would have taken their actions as serious. But, as it was, he only pointed at Estel and said: "I never told him to use rose hip and tingling mushroom. That was entirely his own idea."

Chuckling slightly, the man nodded. "Oh, I would have loved to see your faces when your beds "exploded". It must have been a sight to behold!"

"It was not that funny, Estel. How would you feel when you are tired, want to go to bed, and then, suddenly, your bed sheets fly at you?"

Stopping in his giggles, Estel looked at his brothers: "And how would you feel when the whole of Imladris laughs at you behind your back, mocking you for something that did not even happen the way it has been told?"

Elladan and Elrohir shared a look: "All right, I think we are even now, tithen gwanur (little brother). But now, tell us, how did you do it?"

Accepting his brother's words at the hidden apology that they were, Estel took a deep breath and told his brothers exactly how he had done it. Legolas shook his head from time to time; never had he thought that Estel would use his warrior techniques for a prank.

When the ranger had finished his explanation, Elrohir said, counting the ingredients on his fingers: "You used mushroom powder, rose hip and flour and what was the last one?"

Legolas answered for his friend: "The last and most important component is the seed of spring grass. The flour was just for the effect. You see, if you pick the spring grass and use it while it is still wet and fresh, you have to put it together with the mushroom powder. I don not know how it works exactly, but the two mingle and then, after some time, when the seeds are dry they will, well…fly at you as soon they meet the air. We use it in Mirkwood to confuse the spiders; we mix the seeds with earth or black powder that we make out of tree bark. It is quite effective. It blinds them and gives you some time to either attack them or run from them. Whatever the case."

The twins thought for a moment and no one said anything for a while, then Elladan said, admiringly: "Estel, I think you have entered the stage that Elrohir and I call the "Stage of advanced pranking". From now on, we will play tough and dirty."

Grinning, Estel glanced at Legolas. "El, in truth it "was" Legolas´ idea."

"Hm, well, in thatcase, I think the prince has entered this stage as well." Smiling broadly at the archer, Elrohir leaned towards his friend and added in conspiracy: "And no claiming diplomatic immunity, my prince. This game will be played fairly."

Legolas turned a little paler and first glanced at the younger twin, then at Elladan and when his eyes rested on his human friend, the man only shrugged, smiled in his direction and steered his horse forwards, out of Legolas´ reach.

_Great. The next time I visit Imladris I will have to take a bodyguard with me, just to make sure that the twins´ pranks do not kill me._

Yet, the archer smiled broadly at this proof of friendship and hurried after the three Elrondions, deeper into the forest, steadily nearing their destination, the base of the Misty Mountains that already loomed in the distance.

--oOo—

Nighttime had fallen over the forest that surrounded the elven valley, the single hoot of an owl piercing the silence. The nightly predators had left their homes to hunt; their prey had already set out into the dark forest, scurrying and running, eating as well as being eaten. The half moon shone brightly from the cloudless sky, promising a frosty night. The stars that shed their silver light onto the earth made the small stream that ran past the clearing glitter silver like liquid mithril.

The four friends had chosen this small, tree encirclet clearing to rest for the night so as to spend their last evening together before they parted ways in the morning. Elladan had built a fire that now burned merrily, the red and orange flames casting flickering shadows over the companions' faces, making them shine like the autumn forest trees that they had seen during the day.

A tasty meal was cooking over the fire, its smell floating over the clearing and making the hungry stomachs grumble. This night, Legolas had taken it upon himself to cook. The blond elf had claimed that the Peredhel's food was neither appetizing nor anything akin to enjoyable and that the stew the twins had named "Belly Burster" tasted like rotten fish with burned seaweed.

So the prince had spend most of the day walking beside his horse, collecting nuts and herbs, mushrooms, –not the tingling sort, of course, much to the twins relief-, roots and fruits to cook his own version of a good stew. That it was called "Narquelie Nare (October Firedid help his offer to cook immensely.

When evening had turned to night, the friends had settled down on their bed rolls, had talked and laughed and were now waiting patiently for the stew to be ready. More than once Legolas had to bash one of the twins´ hands away from the pot. Needless to say that Elladan and Elrohir were starving, as usual.

As the darkness crept on, the fire being constantly fed with dry sticks and branches to keep it burning, Legolas began to cast concerned looks at his human friend. Estel had been talking merrily with his brothers, sharing tales and stories that they all knew by heart, but during the last hour the man had turned silent, letting his foster brothers do the talking. It seemed the twins had not noticed their brother's behavior, as they talked and talked and soon began to bicker agitatedly over some remark that Elrohir had made. Something about rose hip, if Legolas had heard correctly.

Sitting next to the ranger and opposite to the twins, the prince studied his friend's face for some moments. Estel looked into the flames, seemingly lost in thought, undisturbed by his brother's bickering; which in itself was a great achievement, as the dispute had reached volumes that would have woken a sleeping troll.

_I wonder what he is thinking about. If I did not know better I would say he is concerned about something. But what? Returning to the rangers? Nay, he has known them all long enough to call them something akin to friends. But, what then?_

When Estel took a stick and threw it into the fire, the gesture telling more of his emotions than the man probably noticed himself, the elf could not wait any longer. Shifting his weight a bit, he settled down closer to his friend and after a quick glance in the direction of the twins, he asked quietly, so as not to alert the two brothers.

"What troubles you, mellon nin?"

Estel did not look up from the flames, did nothing that indicated that he had heard the question. But after a moment, the man sighed softly and answered, his tone equally as low as his friend's.

"If I only knew, Legolas."

Frowning in concern, the archer leaned in closer. "You do not know? Do you feel that something is amiss? Are we in danger?"

Estel might not have the power of foresight his foster father had, but nevertheless, the gift was common in the blood of Numenor and in the past the man's "feelings" had more than once helped them out of a serious situation. Legolas had long since learned to trust his friend's feelings.

But the ranger shook his head and tucked a lock of dark hair behind his ear ere he answered. "No, we are not in danger. At least I do not think so. It is rather," the man sighed and stared in the flickering flames for a moment more before he took a deep breath and continued, "I feel like the day we left from Imladris. You know, this strange feeling inside when you leave home, when you say farewell because you go on a long journey and you do not know when you will come back. It is this feeling of…of goodbye. Ah, Legolas, perhaps I am just tired or so, but I feel as if I,…" he paused once more and lifted his head to look at his still bickering brothers. His next words were barely a whisper. "I feel as if I will never see them again, Legolas."

Turning his head to look at the elf, the man locked eyes with the archer. "Does that make any sense, mellon nin?"

Studying the ranger's face closely, Legolas nodded thoughtfully, his eyes serious: "If you feel that way, it makes sense, Estel. What are you going to do now?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the man took a deep breath and stared back into the fire, picking up another twig and throwing it into the flames. When he answered, his voice was subdued. "Nothing. I shall do nothing. There is naught I can do, Legolas."

"You won't tell them?" The elf sounded incredulous. The twins had a right to know about this. What if something happened to them on the way back to Imladris? They had to be warned.

"No, I won't tell them. It does not concern them."

"It does not concern them, Estel? But did you not just say you feel as if you will never see them again? That it does not concern them would mean that…oh." Realization dawned on the archer and he kicked himself mentally for being so slow on the uptake tonight.

_If it does not concern the twins, then it means that whatever Estel feels concerns him. He feels that something will happen to him._

Shrugging off the cold feeling that wanted to crawl down his spine, the blond archer eyed his friend closely before he whispered. "You have to tell them, Estel. They need to know."

But to his utter surprise his friend only smiled at him, and then the man tilted his head in the direction of his brothers. "Look at them, Legolas. Our ways will part tomorrow, one way or another. I do not want them to worry needlessly. It will take me weeks before I reach the base camp and can send a message. I do not want them to worry until I come back. They will fret enough as it is. More likely than not nothing will happen at all."

And when the prince looked at the two squabbling and laughing twins, he smiled too, although his smile was sadder than that of his friend.

_Estel is right. Tomorrow we will part and who knows when we will meet again. Elladan and Elrohir will worry every day until they see their brother again. Telling them would cause them countless sleepless nights._

Nodding, Legolas let himself settle down on the ground, his gaze resting on the twins, who still talked merrily with each other. Estel had taken to looking at the flames again, his face calm and relaxed, but the elf could tell that under the surface the man was thinking intensely.

_I wonder how many times Estel has not told us of his feelings. How many times he has left us, not sure if he would ever return to us._

It was a thought that made his heart constrict in sudden realization.

--oOo--

A shadow moved through the forest, silent and almost invisible, his green and brown cloak melting with the low growing underbrush and the shrubs that surrounded him. The hood was securely drawn over his white hair; the white skinned hands were covered with black leather gloves.

Elastic boots softened the man's steps as he slowly approached the small clearing, drawn to it by the glowing fire and the sweet smell of the bubbling stew. A wicked grin spread over the being's face as the crouched down behind some green shrubbery, close enough to the group to hear every word they said.

The urge to take his bow from his back, to just notch an arrow and simply kill the man and the elves was strong and only the thought of the little black satchel hidden under his cloak made him restrain himself.

_An arrow would be a death too quick and merciful for you. No, oh no, you will suffer and hurt boy, before you die. You will beg your dear "brothers" to end your miserable life. Or this blond excuse for an archer. But they won't help you. No, they love you too much to kill you. And when they finally realize that murder you will be your only release, then it will be too late already._

Grinning like the manic that the man was, he crouched behind the plants, listened to the conversation of the group and waited. When he had left the group outside of Rivendell some days ago, he had made it to his own small camp at the edge of the forest quickly and had then summoned his helpers.

They had already waited for his call, as he had paid each one of them a visit in the last weeks. Not only had they answered his call, but they had come even quicker than the man had expected. This lucky turn of events had made it possible to direct their next steps more precisely.

As it was, it had not been difficult to guess the elves' and human's road. They had traveled east all the time and as the High Pass was the only way to cross the Misty Mountains in this time of year, it had been more than clear to the hooded man which way they would take and why.

And he had stationed his men. Tonight, they would put his plan into action; this night, it would begin.

His men were stationed around the camp, one to the north, one to the west and one to the east. No one would escape if he did not allow it.

Dagnir grinned victoriously.

--oOo--

"Legolas, is that stew of yours done? I am starving!" Elladan scooted nearer to the pot that still cooked over the fire, the stew bubbling cheerfully, sending waves of sweet smelling fragrance into the air and…right into the older twin's nose.

Sighing, the archer repeated what he had told the twin now for what felt hundredth time. "No, Elladan, and your constant asking does not make it cook faster. Has your father not taught you to have patience?"

"He has tried." Elrohir piped up from behind his brother. "But he has never been very successful in that respect. By the way, have I already told you about his attempts to teach Elladan how to use a fork, knife and spoon?"

Legolas shook his head in the elf's direction, ignoring Elladan´s whispered "Ro, you are my brother; you are supposed to be on _my_ side!" Estel drew his knees up to his chest and put on a long suffering look.

"Ro, do you really think you should tell this special tale _before_ we eat? Remember the last time you told it and the reaction of the poor elf from Lothlorien who happened to hear it." Smirking, the younger twin glanced in Legolas´ direction, then at his twin, who shot him by now murderous looks.

"Ah, I think you are right, muindor nin (my brother). I will tell it _after_ dinner. By the way, Legolas, is that stew of yours done already?" the twin asked while licking his lips in anticipation. Now it was Legolas´ turn to throw a suffering look in Estel´s direction, who only smiled and shrugged his shoulders. The antics of the twins would never change, not in a million of years.

Pushing Elladan's fingers away from the stew –again- the blond haired prince asked into the group. "So, I know where I am going tomorrow, but what about you? Are you returning home immediately or have you planned to go hunting before you ride back? And you Estel? Straight to the Ettenmoors?"

Elrohir took a sip from the tea they had made and answered for himself and his brother.

"Well, there are some things that need our attention at home, so we will ride home tomorrow, without any shortcuts. Just home again."

"I see. But…those things that need your attention are not, by any chance, your father's orders to come home right away?"

The unison "no" came too quickly to be believable. Grinning at the embarrassed looking brothers, the archer repeated his second question. "And you Estel? Straight to the Ettenmoors?"

Tilting his head and poking at the fire, the man nodded. "Aye. I will make straight for the base camp. I have lingered in Imladris longer than I wanted to and my duties with the rangers tolerate my inattention no longer."

"What are your duties, Estel? I mean, you never speak of them. Patrolling cannot be the only thing you do." Legolas was really curious and the thought that the rangers had a camp at the edge of the Ettenmoors was rather surprising to him. He had thought the men would patrol the Shire and the borders of the villages in the west, not so far northeast.

Taking a deep breath, the man shifted his weight into a more comfortable position. Shaking his head, he answered: "No, patrolling is not everything we do, but my duties consist of many things."

After a prompting look from all three elves, he continued: "If you want to know it, some of the rangers and I are supposed to examine a hidden valley near the Misty Mountains. It is supposed to stretch out between the Mountains and the open plain. Tales tell of it, but few have actually seen it. If it truly exists, it could serve as safe haven for the rangers, a place where we could rest and gather our strength and forces before setting out to the north."

Elladan was skeptical as ever. "A hidden valley? And no one has seen it yet? If you ask me that sounds like a fairy tale."

"Ah, and everybody knows exactly where the hidden elven realm of Imladris is. And the tale of the one ring and Sauron is only a fairy tale, too, Elladan."

Grumbling, the older twin had to admit defeat.

--oOo--

Dagnir was angry. No, angry did not describe his state of mind. Furious was more accurate.

_They are parting! Those nasty, little scum protectors are leaving him!_

That the friends would travel in different directions, that was something the former captain of men had not taken into account. He had thought that the friends would travel to Mirkwood together or at least over the Misty Mountains. That they would go separate ways in the morning would make it necessary to change his plans.

_I wanted you to see him suffer, to see him sick and hurting, to see them worry over him, not knowing what was wrong. I wanted you to see how he writhes over the ground, moaning and begging. Curse my luck!_

Dagnir took several deep breaths and consciously calmed himself. It would not help him to rush things now. So, the blond one was returning to Mirkwood and the other two dark haired elves would return to the elven town. And the man would go north.

_Fine. Change of plans! Go to Mirkwood, go to the place you call home. Then he will suffer alone and abandoned._

A wicked smirk spread over the man's face as he realized that this unexpected turn of events was maybe even better than his original plan.

_He will not beg those elves for mercy. He will beg me! And I will play with him, let him beg me, let him plead with me; tell him that I will help him. And then I will let him live…to die a horrid and painful death!_

Still smiling in anticipation, the white haired man set the secret signal to tell his men to initiate his plan.

--oOo--

A snapping branch to the right of Elladan caught the group's attention. The snapping twig was soon followed by another branch, then a third. Legolas had his bow in his hand faster than the others had even realized what he was doing.

Standing up quickly, Estel drew his sword, as well as the twins. The sounds that came out of the dark forest surrounding them did not sound like someone walking, but it was no animal either. Turning their attention to the trees around them, the four listened intently for another sign that they were not alone.

A moment later, another twig snapped, but this time in the opposite direction. Turning on his heel, the Mirkwood prince aimed at the dark woods from whence the sound had come, but his sharp eyes did not detect any movement. In their stead, his ears did.

There were sounds coming from the north.

The four exchanged a meaningful look. Whoever was near, he was not alone. Nodding, the group silently split into three parts. Legolas went to the north, the twins to the east and Estel to the west. Whoever hid in the forest, they would not be sitting ducks before a bright fire, ready to be shot and cooked, perhaps as meal after the stew, which still bubbled over the fire.

Switching from his bow to his twin knives, Legolas vanished in the dark forest, the twins disappeared in the east and after a quick look over his shoulder and back at the camp, Estel ventured out into the night as well.

--oOo--

Pressing himself flat to the ground, his body shivering slightly with suppressed anxiety and anticipation, the white haired man waited until the last echoing footsteps of the group had vanished. Then he waited a few moments more, before he silently pushed his body from the earth and righted himself

_Finally…_

He pushed through the waist high shrub he had lain behind, sharp thorns clawing at him, and let his eyes wander over the deserted camp. With his one hand he reached inside his cloak and brought a black leather satchel out.

Red eyes darting left and right, Dagnir searched the edges of the camp for any signs that one of the friends would come back, but when he neither saw nor heard anything, he walked closer to the fire and the bed rolls which still lay spread out on the ground.

_This is so easy. _

Bending down, the man took up the spoon and dipped it into the stew, stirring it a bit, before he lifted it to his mouth and tasted it. Swallowing, the man raised his eyebrows and nodded appreciatively.

_Delicious. But in just a few seconds it will not only be delicious, but deadly as well._

Tense like a bowstring, Dagnir opened the satchel and held it in his hand over the stew. After a deep breath, the man flipped his hand upside down and a gray powder trickled onto the fizzy surface of the stew. Taking up the spoon, the killer stirred the meal once more, and then looked at it for a moment, unmoving.

And then, very slowly, an evil grin spread over his face and his eyes gleamed like the fires of Mordor itself. He turned and headed of into the dark forest, the silent trees the only witnesses of his evil act.

And when he had vanished behind the tree line, leaving no sign of his passing, the stars still twinkled down from the firmament and the moon cast its silver light onto the clearing …and the merrily cooking stew that smelled so delicious.

End of chapter 5

Chapter six is called: First day of your death

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So, any comments,yes? you know, reviews make the authors very happy beings and they encourage them to write faster. Come on, we can make it! 80 reviews with this chapter! (No, just kidding...) 


	7. 6 The first day of your death

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, Summary, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter 6: "The first day of your death"**

**Beta: Chris **and** Imbecamiel. **I am more than just _thankful._** THANK YOU SO MUCH! Hannon le, mellyn!**

**A/N: **I hope you like this chapter. Rad and enjoy and review if you feel like doing so. (Which means: Please, please let me know what you think of it:o) )

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"_Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." (Robert Brault)_

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Chapter 6 "The first day of your death"

The blond archer crept silently through the dark forest, his green tunic blending with his surroundings and his steps almost soundless on the withered leaves that covered the ground. Towering trees waved their branches as he passed, pleased that a Wood-elf would dwell under them, and the animals of the night seemed to stop in their tracks as he passed them by.

All was still and quiet, no sound floated to his ears, no movement met his eye. It was almost as if the whole forest was holding its breath. The calm before the storm. And although neither his eyes nor ears detected anything out of the ordinary, Legolas´s trained warrior senses were screaming at him that something was amiss, and the prince had every intention to listen to them.

With every step that he ventured deeper into the night, the half moon only shedding a weak silver light through the treetops, his alarm bells rang louder and louder. Gripping the ebony handles of his sharp twin knifes tighter, the elf crept on, and he would not stop until he found what caused his unease.

--oOo--

Elladan nudged his brother softly in the side with his elbow. When the younger twin looked at him, he shook his head and directed his gaze at the dark trees straight ahead of them. Something had moved there.

Nodding and tightening his hold on his sword, Elrohir sneaked away to their right while his twin moved off to the left. They would corner whoever was hiding ahead of them and making it impossible for him to escape.

Mist had gathered on the ground and was wafting between the tree trunks, hiding the roots and the low underbrush that grew there, making their steps perilous. One false step in this darkness, one sound that escaped their carefully placed feet, and the intruder would know that they were trying to trap him and be able to flee.

Crouching low and stopping behind a wide oak tree, Elladan took a deep breath. His eyes sought the tall frame of his brother and when their eyes met, both nodded. The movement had come from the cluster of bushes straight ahead.

And with the moon reflecting on their drawn weapons, the brothers left their cover and rushed at the bush, ready to attack whoever was hiding there.

--oOo--

Brown leaves crunched softly under his feet and his cloak caught in a thorny bush, but with a flick of his hand Estel freed the fabric and moved on. The dew that glimmered on the dark leaves and the moss that encircled the tree trunks made his passing almost soundless and only when he trod on dry and withered leaves did he make a sound. Nevertheless, he was more stealthy than any other human his age.

Slowly, the man moved through the dense underbrush, the sword held tightly in his hand and his whole frame tense and alert. Whoever hid in these woods, the ranger was eager to uncover him and end this game of hide and seek.

With the weak light of the moon on his back and the silver light of the stars on his path, Estel crept through the darkness that surrounded him, his eyes trying to penetrate the blackness. So far no sound had found his ears and the more he neared the denser part of these woods, away from the campsite, the more he felt that he needed to turn around.

He could not place this feeling, but with every step he took, the feeling of nervousness intensified. Stopping in his tracks and turning back to the way he had come, Estel narrowed his eyes to penetrate the darkness that veiled the path he had taken.

Turning to the way before him, the man took a deep breath, glanced in the direction he was supposed to walk, and turned back to the campsite. And as he walked through the low hanging waves of silvery mist that clung to the trees, he could not help the feeling that something was wrong indeed. Very wrong.

--oOo--

Suddenly and with a stealth that would make the mighty Balrog Slayer very proud, the twins charged forward and simultaneously jumped at the bushes, their weapons drawn. But what was hiding behind the bush was nothing they ever had anticipated.

With a yelp of surprise, Elrohir let go of his sword and it clattered to the ground. Jumping back a few feet, his right foot caught on low hanging brambles and with flailing arms the younger twin fell back. Landing with a heavy thud on his behind on the wet leaves, the elf stared wide eyed at the sight before him.

Because there his brother stood, tall and ready to fight. Elladan had gasped in surprise as he had attacked the bush and when his younger brother had yelled and landed unceremoniously on his behind, the older twin had retreated hastily a few steps before he had lifted his weapon.

Now he was waving it before him, the steel cutting through the air, the gesture meant to frighten their enemy. The elf's face was a mixture of fear and disgust, surprise evident on the fair features. With another angry thrust at his adversary, the elf moved a step forward boldly.

But, as it seemed, their foe was not threatened that easily. Cheerily sniffing and scrambling over the leaf covered ground, a big black and white colored skunk eyed Elladan out of beetle black eyes.

And when the twin made a step towards it, the animal seemed to understand this as an invitation to befriend an elf. With a low grunting sound, the skunk advanced on Elladan, tail held high in the air.

"No, no, you stupid animal. Go back. Shush!" Stepping back quickly and thereby waving his sword defensively in front him, the elf moved away from the animal. It seemed his hysterical motions only agitated the skunk and with another low gurgling sound, it quickened its steps and ran at the dark haired elf.

"No, go away! Shush!" The elf's voice bordered on a panicky tone.

For many more years to come, Elrohir would swear under oath that he had never seen a Noldor elf climb a tree as quickly as he had seen his brother do in that night. Of course, he would then deny the fact that he had followed his twin's´ lead only moments later, when the skunk had advanced on him instead.

--oOo--

Feeling the night's chill seep through his clothes and the mist wet his cloak, Legolas stopped in his tracks and scanned the dark trees that surrounded him. Since the first few sounds that he had heard near the campfire, the forest had been eerily quiet, but he did not feel as if any immediate danger was near. At least not anymore.

Sighing in frustration, the blond haired archer lifted his head and tried to spot the stars that shone in the sky. From his position below the canopy of the towering trees that seemed to dwarf him, the elf could barely see them twinkling through the branches that were still full of brown and yellow leaves.

He looked back at the way he had come. Frowning, he decided that it was time to head back. Mayhap the others had found something, maybe it had only been some animals, a group of rabbits perhaps, or weasels. Whoever had been near the camp, he had left no signs of his passing.

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind a finely pointed ear, he made his way back to the camp and the fire.A small grin flitted over his face as he thought of the fire, or rather, the stew. By now the twins must be positively starving.

When he neared their camp, his feet walking soundlessly over the dry leaves, his senses alerted him to a presence to his right. Quickly stepping behind a huge tree trunk, Legolas lifted his knives and peered out from behind his cover.

The way before him lay dark and gloomy, the mist that had gathered giving the scenery an eerie touch. A lone owl hooted nearby and a cold gust of wind rushed past him. Feeling the tension in his body rise, the elf held his breath.

There! Footsteps!

Gripping his weapons tighter, his whole body tense and on alert, the prince pressed his slim body to the tree, his eyes never leaving the path before him.

And then, just as he wanted to step out from his cover to check for himself, the crunching sound of leaves met his ears, followed by a low rumbling sound.

Frowning, the archer tilted his head to the side. A few moments later the footsteps drew nearer to his position, and a heartbeat later a tall and dark figure stepped from behind the bushes. The low grumbling sound could be heard again and the figure stopped to look around.

His eyes rested for a moment on the tree that Legolas was hiding behind, but he never saw the Wood-elf. Slowly the tall figure moved on, a shining sword in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas could not suppress his grin as the loud rumbling sound reached his ears once more. Grinning, he took another look at the tall man and then, with a quick motion, tilted his head to the side and said loudly,

"Boo!"

The man spun around on his heels, sword ready to fight, surprise and tension written on his face. When his eyes fell on the grinning Legolas, he cursed under his breath and lowered his sword.

"Legolas! Sweet Eru, I could have killed you, you stupid elf!" It was evident that Estel was not amused by the elf's little joke. A red blush had appeared on his cheeks and he eyed his friend out of narrowed eyes.

Stepping out from behind the tree, the prince shook his head, still chuckling softly. "Killed me? From that position? You were so far away from me that I feared you would not even hear me with that hearing of yours."

"Were you not supposed to be checking the forest, elf?" Estel said defiantly, waving his sword before him in a dismissive gesture. Hearing eerie sounds at night near the Misty Mountains was enough to chill him, he did not need his best friend to add to his unpleasant feeling. And, much more importantly, he _hated_ it when Legolas managed to surprise him; it was a long-standing joke and challenge between them. A challenge that he had not won even _once_, much to his annoyance.

Stifling his chuckles, the archer nodded, put an arm around the man's shoulder and together they made their way back to the campsite. "I checked the forest north of the camp, Estel, but I did not find anything out of the ordinary. And by the way," the elf added with a gesture at the man's stomach, "that rumbling of your stomach could be heard in Lorien. Whatever has been near the camp has surely fled before it!"

Ducking the halfhearted swing at his head, Legolas grinned at his friend and soon they had reached the fire and the still innocently cooking stew. Settling down on their blankets and reheating the by now cool tea, the two gazed out into the night, waiting for the twins to arrive. Within moments both had forgotten about their strange feelings of before.

--oOo--

"Is it gone?"

"Aye, brother. You can come down now Dan."

The rustling of leaves and the soft thud of two elven feet meeting the ground a second later floated through the air.

Silently, the two brothers made their way back to the campsite. Just before they reached the campsite, Ellladan laid his hand on his brother´s forearm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Uhm, Ro…muindor nin, maybe it will be better to…uhm… keep this little episode between us. You know, just not to…ah… frighten the little ones."

Nodding eagerly, his twin agreed. "Yes, I think it would not do to scare them." And with an afterthought, "And Estel cannot climb the trees as swiftly as we can. Such a …monstrous beast would …snuff him in moments!"

So the brothers made it to their campsite where they met their friend and younger brother. And when they were asked if something had occurred, they just shook their heads and stated that _nothing_ had happened that would be worth of telling.

Perhaps their little charade would have played out had Elrohir not eyed his blanket suspiciously before sitting down and then lifted one corner of it to peep under it as if to check that nothing hid there.

Or maybe it was Elladan´s –very unobvious- nudge with his elbow that met his twin in his ribs when Elrohir leaned in towards his twin and tried to sniff the elder elf's clothing.

It was when the young ranger furrowed his brow and took a breath, a curious gleam in his eyes, that Elladan suddenly remembered the stew over the fire and with a "Oh look, stew!" he pointed at the meal, effectively barring the man's question.

Rubbing his hands together, the oldest elf took up his spoon and eyed the prince questioningly. "Is it done now? I am starving. Ro? You're hungry too, or not?" When his brother did not answer quickly enough, Elladan raised his eyebrow at him and repeated with a pleading "Ro?" in his twin's´ direction.

Getting his brother's hint, the younger Peredhel nodded eagerly, taking up his wooden spoon as well.

Taking a deep breath and sighing soundly, Legolas watched his friends with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Those two would never change. After shooting a questioning look at the human by his side, the archer saw the man shrug his shoulders. But the look that his friend was giving him said clearly that he was not yet willing to let the matter drop. The twins were hiding something and from the look of it, it was very embarrassing for them. Estel would make sure that his brothers would tell him. Maybe not now or this night. But surely someday.

Shaking his head slightly, the blond archer took up the long spoon that he had used to stir the stew and dipped it into the cooking meal only to take it out a moment later to sniff at the mixture of mushrooms, vegetables and herbs.

He nodded and before he had really noticed what had happened, the two hungry twins had already filled their bowls and were munching away happily. With his mouth half full, Elladan commented, "Mh, good, bu´ hot."

Sending an amused look in the twin's´ direction, Legolas took up another bowl and filled it. Giving the bowl to Estel, he filled his own and after another good-natured look at the elven brothers, the archer began to eat as well.

Estel took up his bowl and eyed it warily. Despite his earlier strange feelings and the sounds they had heard in the dark forest surrounding them, the ranger had not yet forgotten the prank he had played on his friend, and he was more than certain that Legolas remembered as well.

If the elf had planned anything to get back at him, he would have to do it before the next morning. And what better opportunity was there than the stew? Maybe the archer had put something in his bowl? A few of those spicy nuts that seemed to burn their way down into the stomach, maybe?

A low grumble sounded from his stomach and so the man resigned himself to his inevitable fate. He dipped his spoon into the stew, stirred the substance a little and then raised the meal to his mouth. Sniffing at it and then taking another suspicious look at his friend, Estel opened his mouth and cleared the meal from the spoon.

The meal that Legolas had cooked tasted delicious, the herbs and mushrooms giving the meal a sour taste that was compensated by the sweet vegetables. The flavors were underlined by the consistence, the mushroom pieces soft and some of the roots and vegetables still crunchy.

So it was no wonder when Elladan and Elrohir quickly cleared their bowls and demanded another fill.

"Mh, Legolas, what was that green stuff in it? It tasted like…like…" The eldest brother furrowed his brow as he thought about the word he was looking for. Sure enough, as it happened so often between the twins, his brother finished the sentence, "Like cucumber, but with a sweet note, like honey."

Taking another spoon full of the stew, the prince looked at the twins and said calmly, as if he stated the most normal thing in the world, "Oh, that is just some sort of maggot. Big and juicy. Lives in warm and wet places, like…"

With a choking sound Elladan spat his tea over the fire, Elrohir let his bowl of stew fall to the ground and Estel, who had just lifted his spoon to his mouth, withdrew it as quickly as he could.

All three watched with mounting horror as their friend continued eating, chewing and licking his lips.

A few moments later, Elladan pointed his finger at the blond archer and said to the others, "He would not eat it if maggots were in it! He may be out of Mirkwood, but even those nasty Wood-elves would not eat maggots!"

With an indignant "Hey!", the prince threw a charming smile at his friends. After seeing the stunned and embarrassed faces, Legolas could no longer contain his laughter and soon he was holding his sides, his clear voice filling the air.

"You should have seen your faces…" he brought out between fits of laughter, "…hilarious!"

Grumbling, Elrohir lifted his bowl from the ground and took another fill. "Very funny, Legolas, really, very funny."

Wiping the tears from his blue eyes and sitting up straight, the archer replied, "Aye, it was."

Chancing a glance at the ranger beside him, the prince saw how the man lifted his spoon to eye level and eyed the stew from all sides as if he was still unsure if he should eat it or not.

"Estel, it was just a joke. I was kidding."

Sending an unconvinced look at the elf, the man continued eating and after he had emptied his bowl the archer gave him a second portion. After all, who could know when the man would get his next warm meal?

After having filled their stomachs and settled down comfortably on their blankets, the friends talked about this and that, their voices light and their mood relaxed. So it was no surprise that the man rummaged through his pack and brought out his pipe, made out of plain red wood, without any carvings or art. Estel had made the pipe himself, and he had claimed it to be suitable for the ranger he was.

Estel knew that neither Legolas nor his brothers enjoyed the smell of the dried and burned weed and that they despised this new habit of his, but he liked it and therefore took every opportunity he got to smoke.

Of course, he had never told his ada about it.

He took out his weed and started to fill the pipe, but soon it became apparent that something did not work as the ranger wanted it. He grumbled under his breath and fidgeted with the weed and the pipe, his voice rising in volume, blocking out the conversation between Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas.

"You stupid thing! Can't you just do what I want? Sometimes I could just…"

"Mh, Estel?" As if caught with his hands in the cookie jar, the man snapped his head up and eyed the blond archer surprised. "What?"

"Estel, do you often speak to inanimate objects?"

Baffled, the ranger eyed the pipe in his lap and then the grinning Wood-elf. Stretching his arm and pointing at his eldest brother he blurted out as if it was a justification, "I am speaking to Elladan as well!"

The laughter of the elves and the human could be heard echoing through the dark and silent forest for a long time and only when the moon stood high in the sky, resembling diamonds caught in a black river, the voices quieted down and sleep settled over the woods.

Having the first watch, Legolas gazed at his sleeping companions and smiled to himself. It had been a wonderful evening, full of friendship and jokes and deep inside the elf knew that he would miss his friends, once he was home.

Tightening his cloak around his shoulders, he settled for his watch and soon his entire being had focused on the nightly sounds of the forest surrounding them.

An empty cooking pot lay near the glimmering fire, ready to be cleaned and packed away, the stew eaten and the doom approaching.

End of chapter 6

Tbc…

_Chapter 7 is called "Sorrow in the morrow"_

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_So... any comments? What do you think? Good? Bad? Tell me, please! I 'love' feedback. The next cahpter will be up next week and then, the real angst will begin. Imaginigma :o)_


	8. 7 Sorrow in the morrow

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, Summary, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**A/N:**

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

I know of course that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. (It's fun!)

**Beta: **Chris, thank you soooo much!

**A/N:** Dear Readers! Yes, I mean +you+. Thank you all **so much** for your support. You keep me going, mellyn! **Hannon le!**

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"_Excuse me, then! you know my heart;  
But dearest friends, alas! must part."_

_(John Gay__, The Hare and Many Friends (l. 61))__

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Chapter 7 "Sorrow in the Morrow" 

Morning dawned misty and cold, the grass sprinkled with the early winter's first crisp frost. The earth awoke cold and stiff to herald a sunny day, the sun would soon melt the frost and cover the forest once more in its autumn beauty and season's colors.

They got up with the break of dawn, cleaned away the remainders of their supper and took care of the horses, brushing them from the nights wetness and readying them for their respective journeys.

The mood that had been light and joyous in the night became subdued and gloomy during the preparations. They all knew that the time to say goodbye had finally come and that they would soon go separate ways. It was not as if they had not done this numerous times before, but no matter how often you say farewell to a loved person, it never becomes easier.

Fastening the last package onto his steed's back, Estel tightened the gray cloak he wore around his broad shoulders and took a deep breath. The chilly air streamed into his throat and filled his lungs, clearing them, leaving behind the feeling of pure freshness and ...cold.

_Autumn is not even over and yet it is as cold as in winter. It would be just my luck if it begins to snow before I reach the Ettenmoors._

Exhaling slowly the man watched as his breath turned into fine mist before his eyes, floating through the air and reflecting the weak sunshine filtering through the brown leaved trees that surrounded the clearing.

Rubbing his cold hands, he marched back to the fire, his steps crunching the grass under his weight as he went. When he reached the fire, he saw that the others were already finished with packing. Elrohir extinguished the tiny flames, and Elladan shifted his bow and quiver on his back into a more comfortable position. Legolas, on the other hand, stood ready and neat as ever next to the twins, his face reflecting a well-known sadness.

A long time ago the prince had accepted the sadness that his friendship with the man would cause him from time to time. Being a ranger, the man could not visit his friend as often as he wished and neither could he plan his next steps or the places he would visit. It was a game of try and see. Try to visit and stay for a while and see if the plans worked out.

More often than not they did not.

And this morning, as so many times before, the friends would have to say farewell, as it was custom with the elves; not goodbye, as it was the custom with the humans.

Reaching the three elves, Estel took a deep breath. "Well..."

"Aye, well..." Elladan managed, presenting a halfhearted smile at his youngest brother. "Time to say farewell."

Estel nodded. No matter how many times he faced this situation, he would never feel comfortable.

They all stood a little awkwardly when, suddenly, Elrohir rushed forwards, engulfing his human brother in a tight hug. "Oh, come here, tithen pen (little one). Estel, promise me to be careful. And to eat well and to always wear your cloak when it is cold, and to seek shelter when it rains and to keep away from danger and...and to come home to us again."

Patting his brother's back, the man murmured good naturedly, "Yes, naneth (mother)." Tightening his hold onto the younger twin, the man hugged him close once more and then Elrohir released his hold only to be replaced instantly by Elladan, who embraced the ranger even stronger.

"Estel, please promise me one thing...don't get yourself killed." Hugging his brother to his chest the human answered, "I will try. After all, what would ada say if I take away his training object? He really needs to learn this new kind of stitches."

Withdrawing from the man, so that he could see into his eyes, Elladan repeated, "Estel please, I have a strange feeling. Take care." Sobering instantly, the foreboding feeling of the last night returning, Estel replied, "I will take care Dan. I promise."

Nodding, the dark haired elf released his brother and joined Elrohir´s side, who had stepped back a little to make way for the prince. Legolas walked up to his friend and soon the friends embraced as well.

"Take care, my friend. May the Valar protect you, Estel."

"And may the Valar protect you as well and see that you arrive safely at your home, mellon nin."

And after another pat on each other's back the friends broke away. Too soon the elves and the human had mounted their horses and were ready to leave.

"Namarie (farewell), Estel."

"Namarie, my brothers. Namarie, Legolas, mellon nin."

"Namarie, mellon."

And so four steeds headed away from the clearing, one to the east, in the direction of the Misty Mountains, two to the west, where Rivendell lay, and one to the north, to the base camp of the rangers.

--oOo--

When silence had settled over the now deserted clearing, four figures emerged from the woods, tall and broad shouldered, clad in earthly colors, their forms nearly blending with the bushes around them.

The sunshine that broke through the treetops reflected on silver weapons, on long swords and polished bows, on sheathed knives and daggers.

The tallest of four, a white haired man with glimmering red eyes and a drawn face, scanned the woods, and after a moment, he turned to his companions.

"They are gone. But the ranger won't get far. We will follow him, silently, stealthy and unseen."

Facing a small man with flaming red hair that hung onto his shoulders and who was clad in a green cloak, Dagnir continued, "Podlim, you go ahead, try to overtake him and set the trap as planned. Not too near to this place, but near enough to the mountains so that he will not have the opportunity to get way."

The addressed man nodded grimly and within the blink of an eye he was gone, the hooves of his horse silent on the ground, due to the cloth that was wound around them. The hunters wanted to be as quiet was possible, so as not to alert the ranger they followed.

Turning to the brown haired human, tall and slim, almost like an elf or a lanky youngster, the leader commanded, "Hador, you are the hunter and most skilled in tracking. You follow us and cover our tracks. I want them to be gone, understood? Not even these damn elves shall be able to follow us."

It was understood. No one dared to oppose the former captain, not if one wished to live and to see the next day. The tanned hunter nodded and wet his lips with his tongue, an old habit.

Satisfied that his order was accepted, Dagnir spoke to the last remaining man, a black haired, white skinned human, who stood tall and proud in nearly black clothes, his shoulders strong, his arms filling the shirt he wore. He had dark eyes that matched the night and when one looked too deep into them one might see the everlasting darkness that reigned in them. This man knew neither pity nor mercy. He was a killer, a murderer. And he was good in what he was doing, one of the best.

"I do not want him to die too soon, so keep your bow on your back and your sword in its sheath. He will die on his own account, sooner or later. But if someone should follow us, or find us by chance despite our best efforts," here Dagnir threw a meaningful look at the red haired hunter, "I want you to take care of the problem."

The black haired human, Morgwath his name, nodded once. He loved his profession. Why argue about an order he would be happy to fulfill?

And so the three men vanished into the dark and silent forest, leaving no sign of their passing that mortal eyes could see.

--oOo--

The sun had traveled far over the sky and the frost had melted, but the air was still cold and crisp. The slight breeze that floated into his face felt fresh and clean, the sun's rays adding to the serene mood that hung over the forest and the surrounding area.

Finally, after many hours of riding, Legolas reached the foot of the mountain and the path that would take him over the snow covered tops and down into the grassy lands and the dark forest of his home.

He halted his horse and lifted his head to look at the mountains before him. Grey and cold they stretched into the blue sky, the peaks glimmering white and golden in the sunlight. With his keen sight, the elf could see small rivulets of clear water run down the slopes of the mountain, glittering like streams of melted diamonds when they caught the sun.

Little grass grew on the stone, only dry bushes and scrubs and the higher his gaze traveled the fewer he even saw of these plants Moss covered the gray stone here and there; the roots going deep to withstand the wind and the cold.

Craning his neck even wider, Legolas sought out the top of the mountain range. Just at that moment the sun seemed to glow stronger and his eyes widened at the wonderful sight before him. The snow glimmered and glittered, the whiteness bright and pure, contrasting against the gray and black of the stone, and the peaks of the mountains seemed to stretch into the clear blue sky as if they reached out to touch the heavens itself.

The blue and white of sky and stone stood out against the weak sun and the sight was breathtaking.

After a few moments the sun had traveled further and the mountains were just mountains again, the magic of the moment gone. Waking as if from a wonderful dream the elf shook his head and then urged his steed on. He had to make it up the mountain a good ways before the night fell and he needed to find a suitable place to rest. The coming darkness would be cold and he did not dare to light a fire in this region.

Murmuring soothing words to his horse, the two made their way up the mountain, never looking back and soon they had left the lively forest and the autumn colors far behind them.

--oOo--

The sun sank behind the horizon, painting the sky a glorious red and orange. The trees seemed to whisper among themselves, enjoying the sunset and the presence of the two elves beneath them. Squirrels and rabbits hushed to and fro, oblivious to the riders, preparing for the coming night.

Elladan and Elrohir had ridden westwards the whole day, silent and still. The playful banter that was so common between them had not echoed through the woods, their jokes had been non-existent and they were both entranced in their own thoughts.

But now, as the sun set and night came, the older of the two lifted his head and looked at his brother who rode beside him. "We should rest here, muindor (brother). It is getting dark and the horses need their rest."

Elrohir just nodded and the two directed their steeds to a small stream and after the animals had drunk, they bade them to find food and rest for the night. Neighing softly, the elvish horses obeyed their masters and soon vanished into the woods.

Wordlessly, the twins set up their blankets and lit a small fire, heating water and making a strong dandelion tea to freshen their senses. They sat in silence, both sipping their tea and staring into the flickering fire. When darkness had fallen completely, Elladan shifted on his blanket.

Cup in hand and head bowed, he suddenly snorted softly, a very unelvish sound. "Maggots! I swear I could have throttled Legolas in that moment."

Chuckling softly, his brother answered, "Nay El. You were quite occupied with spitting your tea over the fire."

"Well, at least I did not drop my bowl of stew."

"I did not drop it. I sat it down."

"Yes, sure you did."

"I did."

"Mh, if you say so…."

"Yes, I say so."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. They both felt not like joking and bickering, they never did when their little brother left them to join the rangers. Of course, they had experienced this feeling more than once. Estel was an adult to human standards and, furthermore, he was a ranger.

He could wield a sword and his skill with the bow was better than that of most, but still. He was their little brother and no matter how old and skilled he became, they would always feel as if part of their hearts was taken from them when he left.

Nevertheless, they had learned to live with their fate, but this night was somehow different. The trees were too quiet, the stream too slow and the darkness too black. The twinkling stars did not soothe them and nightly sounds not reassure them.

Quietly, almost whispering, the younger of the two spoke, "Dan, I…" his voice broke. He did not know how to continue, how to describe the things he felt. But as it happened so often, Elladan knew what he wanted to say. "Iston (I know). I feel it, too."

Over the fire their gray eyes locked. They both felt it. They might not have inherited their father's gift of foresight and if they had, it was not as well developed as their ada´s, but the twins felt that something was in the air, something dark and foreboding.

A gust of wind caught the flames and send glowing embers into the dark sky. Elrohir swallowed thickly. "Do you think we should turn back?"

Agonized eyes met his own. "To whom? Legolas…or Estel?"

--oOo--

Hugging his cloak tighter around his shoulders and leaning his back against the fallen log that served him as a shelter for the nightly winds, Estel watched as his breath came out as a milky white mist. Shivering slightly, he positioned his sword near his right hand and stretched his long legs out before him.

He had not lit a fire and the night had become cold and frosty, heralding the coming winter season. It was not yet cold enough to be really uncomfortable, but after the summer season and the glorious last days of autumn, the chill of the night was unknown to his body, and it compensated the low temperature by shivering.

Estel knew that it would soon stop as he had lived long enough in the wilds to have his body comply to the changes of the seasons and the drops in temperature. Nevertheless, the first nights in winter were always kind of unnerving to him.

Shifting his body to a more comfortable position the man gazed out over the small stream and then up into the sky. No clouds hampered his view, and the deep blackness was dotted with twinkling silver stars. Seeking out Earendil, the brightest of them all, Estel sighed softly.

The shuddering of his body ceased and a comfortable warmth spread through his limbs. Earendil, the star of his forefathers. A long time ago, when he had been just a small boy, Elrond had told him all about the stars and the moon, the sun and the earth. He had been too young still to understand all that he had been told and had been sad that he had disappointed his foster father.

All the many names of the stars, in Sindarin and Quenya and Westron, how had he been supposed to remember them all? The constellations had been even more difficult to learn and although he had tried, he had not managed to learn them all. So one day, when his father had asked him about the stars, he had tried hard to answer but, after too many times that he had not been able to answer correctly, he had fled the study and hid in his room. Tears of anger and defeat had run down his cheeks, and once more he had keenly felt that he was just human. Surely the twins had learned all the names of the stars in one afternoon.

Estel had not come down to dinner that day, and neither his brothers nor his father had called for him or fetched him. Feeling that his ada was disappointed with him, Estel had not been able to sleep and had instead tried to suppress the tears that had threatened to spill again.

Deep into the night he had heard someone knock softly on his door, then enter. Feigning sleep, he had closed his eyes and tried to be as still as possible. He did not want to see the sad eyes of his ada. Elrond was always kind and comforting, but that did not help the feeling of shame that flowed through his veins.

He had felt the bed move under him as the elf had sat down and then the soft brush of fingers against his cheek. Opening his eyes, he had looked up at his foster father and all he had seen in these wise eyes had been love and understanding.

"Come, ion nin (my son). Let me show you something." Together they had left his room and had then climbed onto the highest balcony overlooking the sleeping valley and the dark forest surrounding Imladris. But his ada had not come to show him the landscape.

"Look into the sky, Estel."

And Estel had done just that. The sight had been breathtaking. All over the velvet black sky silver and golden stars had glittered and glimmered, twinkling and shining bright in the glow of the full moon. The more he had looked at them, the more he had seen. Places that had been empty before suddenly filled with little diamonds, smiling down at him and lighting the night.

And while he had stood there, staring in wonder at the sight of the night sky, his father had told him about the names of the stars and how they came by them, pointing out every single star he was talking about.

It was so much easier to remember the names when one saw the stars and hear the story of their naming. And then, his father had told him the story of the star named Earendil, the brightest and most beautiful star in the sky.

Estel had never forgotten the story of the star. Neither those of the others.

Now, as he sat there on the cold ground, his blanket wound around his shoulders and his legs stretched out before him, he remembered that night and smiled softly.

_Earendil shines brightly tonight. Soon the moon will be round and full and then Earendil will truly be the most beautiful star in the sky_.

Sighing softly, Estel let his gaze travel over the sky, remembering the night many years ago, feeling rest and calmness overtake him.

The forest around him was alive with the sound of the nocturnal animals and the scurrying of little feet over dry leaves reached his ears. A small stream was gurgling merrily in its bed only a few feet away, and slowly the drowsy sounds of the forest around him lulled the man into a deep sleep.

His faithful horse grazed some leagues away, relishing in the green grass that grew near the gurgling stream, the water loud in the horse´s sensitive ears.

So it was that Estel never heard the soft footfall of small red haired human who hurried by, sending a quick look at the slumbering ranger and grinning victoriously. The poacher vanished into the shadows of the night as quickly as he had emerged from them, leaving behind neither sign nor sound of his passing.

_End of Chapter 7_

_Tbc…_

Chapter 8 is called "Posion?"

* * *

So, what do you think? The bad guys have arrived! YAY! And the posion, "still" no signs of illness...what could that mean? Did it not work? Has nobody been infected (very unlikely), have they all been posioned (who knows?) or maybe just Aragorn? Or only Legolas, he is a Wood-elf and not a Noldo... 

Ah well, I fear you have to bribe me with reviews to find out and convince me to maybe update on monday and not end of next week "lol".

**Take care**, _Imaginigma :o)_


	9. 8 Poison?

**Chapter 8 **

**For Summary, Disclaimer, Warnings etc, please see chapter 1. Thank you!**

**A/N: **

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. (It's fun!)

**Beta: Chris! Hannon le!**

* * *

_"Just when you think life is so well,_

_it turn out to be like hell."_

_(M.E.)_

* * *

Chapter 8: "Poison?"

The sun stood high in the sky, the birds sat chirping on the swaying branches of the oaks and ashes, willows let their arms play with the wind, the stream along the way gurgled merrily, and the fishes swam close to the surface, relishing in the warm sunny rays of the late autumn sun.

The elvish horses were trotting at a steady pace over the leave covered forest floor, their riders feeling the play of light and shadow that the sun created on their fair faces. It was a nice day, cold but clear, and the twins had finally reached the borders of their home.

For three days they had traveled through the woods, only stopping to rest the steeds and to sleep for a few hours. The elves had not spoken much, their thoughts with their friend and human brother. The feeling of unease had only intensified the further they went from the Misty Mountains and now, only a few hours from the Last Homely House East of the Sea, the feeling of foreboding got even stronger.

Elladan and Elrohir had no mind for the splendor and beauty of their forest; they ignored the autumn flowers and the last butterflies of the year. The river went unheard beside them and even the soft whispering and welcoming sounds of the trees was not enough to distract them and to free them of the stupor that had befallen them.

Last night, Elrohir had woken, trembling and sweating, something that the elf had not done since his naneth (mother) had sailed west. The nightmares of her torture and rescue had plagued the young elf for years and not even the soothing presence of his brother and father had been able to change that.

But the dark haired elf had not dreamed of his mother last night. Disturbing images had floated before his eyes, trees and bushes, dark and gloomy. He had dreamed of a white river and of walls of stone, of tiny flowers that withered under his gaze, of starless nights and then…of his little brother.

Elrohir had tried to grasp his arm, to call out to him, but Estel had neither heard nor seen him. One moment the ranger sat on his horse, tall and proud, the next he lay on the ground, screaming in pure agony, hugging his arms around his chest, writhing on the ground.

The screams had were so loud and full of pain that they had woken the shocked elf. Only when his vision had cleared enough for him to see his surroundings, had he become aware that it had been his own screams that had woken him from the nightmare and that Elladan was hugging him close to his broad chest. His brother had dreamed the same, the same horrid images had flittered through his mind, although he had been too shocked to scream.

Had it just been a dream? Only a dream?

They did not know.

They had packed their belongings, called for their horses and left within the hour. Riding through the nightly forest had only intensified their feeling of dread and now, only a few hours from home, they both felt the urgent need to arrive there quickly. For their own sake and their brother's. Mayhap their father, with his great ability of seeing the future, had seen more than they had.

Clutching the reins of his chestnut colored horse tightly, Elrohir stared at the path before him, lost in his thoughts.

_By now Estel has nearly cleared the forest and is heading out onto the open plains. Even if we set out today with fresh horses, he will be more than six days ahead of us. Six days! Sweet Eru, please let it just be a dream._

Swallowing, the elf took a deep breath to calm himself. It would not help his foster brother if he lost it now. Not when he was not even certain if anything had or would happen at all.

But, to his utter confusion, the breath he took did not help him to calm down. No, instead, his stomach suddenly churned. Taken by surprise, Elrohir gasped, then clasped a hand before his mouth.

"Ro?"

Breathing shallowly, the elf turned, his face was ashen and sweat appeared on his brow. Swallowing again and feeling the bile rise in his throat, Elrohir stopped his horse and whispered, shortly before another wave of nausea hit him, "Dan, I think I don't feel well."

--oOo--

He had made good progress and left the soft slopes of the mountains behind him. Now, far up in the mountains, he had dismounted and was leading his horse by the reins, careful not to make a wrong step or to tread lose the little pebbles and gravel that littered the ground.

Legolas had ridden slowly, enjoying the sun on his face, the wind in his long, blond hair and the powerful horse under him. The view that had presented him as soon as he had reached the upper levels of the Misty Mountains had been breathtaking. On his second day he had stopped shortly before sunset, climbed onto a high rock and watched the sinking sun until it had vanished behind the horizon.

The sky had been of a wonderful orange, coloring the grassy plains and the forest at the bottom in the most splendid colors. Then the sun had shone bright red and the trees had burned with an inner fire, the treetops black against the red horizon. A deep blue had crept over the sky and as he had seen the light fade and the stars awake form their slumber, the elf had felt a complete happiness. It had been one of the most glorious things he had ever seen.

Now, on his third day, the way had become more uneven, the forest was hidden by the gray stone and the long mountainside. He was still far away from the snowy peaks or the other side of the Misty Mountains, and as he was still a day or two from the dangerous area where the mountain goblins dwelled, the archer felt secure enough to let his thoughts wander.

Since the day of their parting, a queasy feeling had settled in his stomach. He did not know where it came from or what had triggered it, but he was sure that it had something to do with his friends. Legolas was unsure whether it was the twins or Estel who were in danger, but one of them definitely was.

The feeling had grown stronger with every step that he had taken and only last night he had wondered if he should not turn around and head back. But where to? To Imladris? Or to the north? As he had not been able to find an answer to this question, he had broken camp in the morning and set out, heading home.

And really, mayhap his feelings were just an imagination. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. He always felt as if he would leave home, not return home when he left Imladris and maybe he was just "homesick". He was glad to go to Mirkwood and to see his ada again, but on the other hand….

_Truly Legolas! What would the twins and Estel say if they could see you now? You are no mere elfling anymore. And furthermore, they are all old enough to look after themselves. No need to worry._

He snorted softly, making his horse turn its head and give him a surprised look. Elvish horses were much more perceptive than other horses, and it had long noticed that something was not as it should be with its master.

With the twins around there is always cause for worry! I swear, some day the terrible two will get into "real" trouble. One day they will forget to fight because of all their bickering and who will then have to help them? Right, a certain Mirkwood elf. And who will end up in the hospital wing? Right, same elf. Alas, it is a dilemma.

Now grinning despite his gloomy mood, Legolas walked on, his thoughts returning to the last night they had all spent together. And to the faces of his friends when he had told them about the very big and juicy maggots….

--oOo--

"Easy, Ro, easy."

Supporting his brother as well as he could, Elladan tried to soothe him with gentle words and his presence. It always made his younger brother feel more comfortable when he was injured, when he knew that his brother was with him.

Now, Elrohir stood near the path, the horses abandoned, one hand pressed to the huge tree beside him to steady him, the other held firmly over his stomach. His head was bent down and Elladan was holding the hair out of the way with one hand while he had the other wound around his brother's chest to keep him on his feet.

The nausea had come so swiftly that Elrohir had only narrowly made it from the back of his horse before he had no longer been able to suppress the urge to heave. Elladan, as shocked as his twin, had jumped from his horse and rushed to his side to help him.

Wave of wave of nausea hit the elf, making him heave and vomit until his stomach was empty and he was trembling all over. His eyes were tightly closed, sweat poured from his brow and his face was as white as a sheet. Taking shallow gasps, the elf tried to control his breathing and after a few minutes, he felt steady enough to lift his head and take a deeper breath.

When a bout of dizziness made him sway on his feet, Elladan hugged him close to his chest and steered him away from the tree to the other side of the path. Only when he pressed him down onto the soft grass, did the younger elf notice that he had moved at all.

"Here, brother, drink a bit of water. It will help." Elladan pressed the water skin at his brother's mouth and helped him drink a few sips, then he withdrew it and instead produced a wet piece of fabric to soothingly wipe his brother's face and neck.

After a few moments, he asked worriedly, "Better?"

Not daring to nod for fear of triggering another wave of nausea, Elrohir slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the sudden brightness of the sun and the reflecting river beside him. Taking a shaking breath, he answered, "Yes, thank you. I already feel better."

It was a bold lie and he knew that Elladan would sense it, but he did not want to worry his twin more than he already had.

"Do not lie to me, muindor nin (my brother). I am worried."

_Caught._

Elrohir sighed and then shifted his position slightly. Almost instantly the ground began to tilt under him and the forest and the river danced before his eyes. He reached out and tried to grab hold of his twin's arm.

Elladan took his searching hand and, drawing his brother near to his chest, he rested Elrohir´s head against his shoulder, stroking the long hair. "Easy, Ro. Sh, all is well. It will pass. It will pass."

When it had passed, the younger twin felt weaker than he had done in a long time. His stomach felt uneasy and his hands were sweaty and trembling, his entire being shivering and shaking.

Still stroking his brother's hair and hugging him close to his chest, the older of the two asked gently, "Better?"

This time, Elrohir did not feel like lying. "Yes, but still not well."

Nodding, Elladan continued, "Ro, is there something you want to tell me? Something I need to know?"

Confused, his brother furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Bending his head to be able to look his twin in the eye, Elladan asked sincerely, "Where are you hurt, muindor (brother)?"

"I am not."

"Ro, you have to be injured. Elves do not get sick."

An uneasy pause grew between them, the river the only sound besides the younger twin's still shallow breathing. Then, Elrohir looked deep into his brother's eyes, his own wide in sudden realization and disbelief.

He had spoken the truth; he had not been injured.

"No, they do not get sick. But they get poisoned."

--oOo--

The three men had followed the ranger through the woods, silent and invisible, neither seen nor heard. Streams had been crossed, trees avoided, fallen logs jumped and deep hanging branches cleared. Once or twice they had lost the man from sight, only to find him again later.

He had gone steadily north and had only stopped to water his horse and to rest for the night. Ranger that he was, he had never lit a fire nor slept for a long time, trusting his horse that it would warn him to any danger. And the horse had done just that.

Yesterday night, Dagnir had crept closer to the man´s resting place. He had been silent, never making so much as a sound as his booted feet touched the dry leaves and needles, crushing them under his weight noiselessly, almost like an elf. But he had not thought about the horse.

When the wind had changed direction, the animal had lifted its head, nostrils flaring and sniffing the air. Dagnir had stopped in mid step, holding his breath and cursing his luck.

_Damn this stupid beast!_

As another gust of cold wind had blown down his back, making his dark cloak fly around his legs and shoulders, the animal had neighed anxiously, pawing at the ground with its hooves and therewith alerting the ranger and waking him from his sleep.

The man had scanned his surroundings, sword in hand, but when he had neither seen nor heard anything, he had patted his horse's neck and then gently stroked its nuzzle, speaking to it softly in elvish. The steed had nudged the man's shoulder and then, being given the desired sugar treat, had returned to its place by the trees, ears directed at the forest around it and its master.

It had taken until the next morning and the silvery mist of the season before the former captain had been able to leave again safely. He was still stiff from standing motionless all night long.

_This cursed horse! _

Truly, he had not wanted to hurt the ranger or do anything. All he had wanted to do was see if the ranger was already beginning to feel the effects of his little poison. Three days had passed already and still the human did not show any signs of being infected.

If this potion maker has fooled me, he will pay for his treachery. I will make him beg for mercy before I kill him. He will die from his own poisons, slowly, painfully. And I will enjoy watching him suffer!

Grinning at the thought, Dagnir ducked under a low hanging branch and rode on through the woods, his horse neighing softly. Tugging at the reins brutally, he stilled the steed and dug his heels into its flanks rudely. The horse jerked under him and then trotted on.

_Stupid animals! Good for nothing._

The former captain had never understood what some human's saw in horses. They were like all other animals. Good for working and serving as transportation means. One needed a firm hand to control them and if one gave them so much as a little freedom, they would turn against one. Their will had to be broken, not understood.

_Just like nasty, little rangers._

Oh, he would break the ranger. He would bring him to his knees and see him suffer and then, very slowly and agonizingly, die.

And furthermore, he would die in the wilds, with only the hungry wolves and the beasts for company, with vultures high in the sky, and all those filthy elves would find, would be the busy carrion-beetles doing their work. His passage into the Halls would be lined with pain and fear and in the end, the ranger would feel so ashamed of himself that he would beg Mandos to turn him away.

Eyes gleaming at the thought, the hunter gripped the reins even tighter.

_Soon. Soon…just a little bit longer._

--oOo--

The day passed like the rest. Estel had rode through the forest and when the sun stood high in the sky he stopped near a merrily gurgling stream to eat and to let his horse drink its fill. The sun filtered through the branches, creating a lovely mosaic of light and shadow on the forest ground.

The air was crisp and clear and he was certain that winter was not far away. A cold wind was already blowing from the close mountains, and Estel only hoped that Legolas would reach the other side before the first early snowfall. It would make the paths slippery and treacherous, even for a surefooted elf.

When the sky slowly turned darker and the sun vanished behind the treetops, the young man stopped his horse near the meandering stream and set up his camp for the night. Still, he did not dare to light a fire, and so he just wound his cloak and a blanket around his shoulders and settled against a boulder, his sword and bow near him and his horse grazing nearby.

Sighing deeply, the man reached a hand up to his temple and massaged it slowly with his fingertips. It had begun as a slight throbbing a few hours ago. Not even painful, only uncomfortable. Now, it felt as if a very busy orc was trying to split his skull with a blunt axe.

A _very_ blunt axe.

Closing his eyes and continuing to massage his head, Estel tried to relax.

_I should have stopped earlier. Or I should have taken some of the painkilling herbs. Ow, great. I love´ headaches. They make my life so wonderful peaceful and enjoyable._

Sighing once more and regretting it instantly as a painful pounding echoed in his head, he leaned back against the rock and stretched his long legs out before him. It would not help to think about the "I should have"s now. It was as it was and he could not change it now, anyways.

Letting his hand sink and rest in his lap as the massage only worsened the ache behind his temples, he tried to focus his thoughts on something else, to distract him from the ever mounting pain and the strange feeling that had begun to settle in his stomach.

He had already covered good ground, and if things went as planned, he would reach the base camp of the rangers within a week. Of course, he would not stay long in camp, but set out again almost instantly, back to the south.

_Ironic. Actually, I could just wait here somewhere for the others to come. But no, first I ride north for days, and then the same way back for a few days. At least, I enjoy riding and the company of the other rangers. If just this damn headache would vanish…_

Moaning softly as hot pain wriggled through his head, starting at his right ear and ending at his left, the man closed his eyes even tighter, willing the pain to pass. Breathing deeply, he focused on his breathing, an old trick he had learned when he had been a child and had been frequently assaulted by headaches.

It usually worked, but not this night. The pain grew from a constant throbbing behind his temples to a piercing ache that even affected his eyes and teeth…and his stomach. Not only did he now feel as if the orc was very inexperienced in what he was doing, but a beehive had moved to his stomach, upsetting it and causing the man to sit as still as possible.

_Great. Just my luck that I should get the flu when I am not at home, but in the wilds. Where else? I should have known, something like this _always_ happens when I am _not_ at home._

Moving his hand to his mid section, the young ranger began to rub it in soothing circles, but after only a few moments the pressure on his stomach, as slight as it had been, made it flip and twist, making the man gasp and groan.

_Wonderful…_

Breathing shallowly to calm himself, or rather his upset belly, the human fought to think of something else.

_My brothers might be home already. And Legolas has by now nearly reached the dangerous area, where the goblins dwell. I just hope he is careful…Of course he is careful, he is a warrior. Really Estel…._

Sighing, he ignored his own thoughts and instead tried to imagine pictures of his friends and family. He saw his brothers and ada, then the prince, their last meal and then, to his utter dismay, Legolas´s face as he told them about the big and juicy maggots!

_That´s it! No more. You are taking the herbs. Adult and ranger or no, no one needs to hurt when there is a remedy for it!_

And so, Estel opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his… blurred vision. Confused about his sudden inability to focus, the ranger scrambled to his feet, surprised that they wobbled under him.

_Ai, what have I done to feel like this? What is happening with me?_

Slowly, he made his way to his pack and the healing utensils, as he suddenly gasped in sheer pain, sinking to his knees and crumbling to the ground, clutching his stomach. He gasped for breath but the pain that had exploded in his stomach was so strong that his lungs failed him.

Writhing on the forest floor, he clenched his hands around his middle and choked and gasped for air. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. Taking a shuddering breath, Estel rolled onto his back, still clutching his midsection.

_Sweet Eru…_

Timidly opening his eyes, he took a few deep breaths and when the pain did not return, he sat up gingerly. Shaking his head, he felt the throbbing of his headache and for a short moment he wondered if the sudden pain attack had just been an imagination.

_No, too painful._

Climbing to his feet, he more swayed to his pack than he walked. Estel was only a few feet away from his pack and then, then the next wave of sheer agony hit him.

_End of Chapter 8_

_Tbc_

_Chapter 9 is called "Pain"

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_

Is this a cliffy? "grins evilly"

Sooo, **finally** the first signs of the poison! What do you think? What will happen to **Aragorn** next? And what about **Legolas,** he has shown no signs yet. **Elladan **and **Elrohir** have a hard time and they are elves, so what will **Estel** have to go through? Perhaps you could send me a **review please**; they inspire the author and make her post quicker. **:o)** (Bribing with reviews works :o) )


	10. 9 Pain

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, Summery, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter 9**

**Beta:** Chris and Imbecamiel. Your work is sooooo much appreciated and your comments are wonderful and helpful. Hannon le! The last parts about Aragorn are unbeta-ed, as my Muse left me stranded. I hope there are not too many mistakes in there. They are all mine and cannot be attributed to my wonderful betas. So, flame me for them (I will use the flames to heat the hearth in my house :o) ).

**A/N 1: **

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

Ada: Father, Dad

Muindor: brother by blood

Ionnath nin: My sons

Rheniolim: To fly fast

Aewblebi: Fluttering Bird

Amin hiraetha: I am sorry

Lembas: The elvish way bread

Thenidair: Loyal Shadow

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**A/N 2:** Suilad! Here is the next chapter. **I am very sorry**, but I am not able to answer your **wonderful and encouraging** reviews individually this time. With the holidays, the next exam and all, I have simply not the time to do so. I am truly sorry. But, to make up for this, this chapter is **double** as long as all the last ones. Hm, enough as damages? I hope you like it, please let me know what you think. Thank you all for your support and your wonderful reviews. They mean a lot to me, as I am still a new author. Hannon le. 

_Italics are thoughts_

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_"There is no greater pain and fear than this: Uncertainty."_

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Chapter 9 « First Wave: Pain »

Night had settled over the vast mountains, the moon stood high in the sky, the stars were glimmering and glittering like diamonds in a river of black silk. A soft breeze floated over the stones and brought the smell of the first snow with it, cold and clear.

The temperatures had fallen when the sun had set, and the chill of the night was only deepened by the coldness that Legolas felt in his heart.

When the blackness had fallen over the land and the Misty Mountains, he had stopped his horse and taken shelter under a wide overhang. He had neither lit a fire nor dared to enter one of the small caves that littered the walls of stone.

Hugging his traveling cloak tighter around his slim but strong shoulders, the elf felt the wind catch in his long hair and play with it for a while, before releasing it and letting it fall back on his shoulders.

A clear voice, soft and gentle, but tinged with sadness, floated through the night, resounding from the mountains. It was not loud and the wind carried it high up and far away to places where no ears could hear it, expect Legolas, who sang so wonderfully..

"_From East to West and in the night,_

_The ship sails past to reach the light._

_The moon shines down on silver spray,_

_Oh, how I wish your soul would stay._

_I hear your voice from far away,_

_A memory of yesterday._

_Let darkness take my waking mind,_

_Dreams the troubled places find._

_Near you I am free at last,_

_Pain a shadow of the past._

_Oh my head in sadness bends,_

_When I wake, the dreaming ends."_

The fair voice stopped singing, the last notes of the sad song carried away on the wind. Legolas sighed. It was cold, winter was at the doorstep, and he would have to make haste if he wanted to get down from the mountains ere the first snow fell. He could already smell it in the air, the distinct flavor of water and ice, mingled with frost and coldness.

Shifting his position a little, the prince let his gaze travel over the view before him. Or rather, the sight he would have seen had it been day and not night. The moon was not full and the stars provided little light in this darkness. Even with his keen eyesight, he was not able to penetrate this lasting darkness for more than a few yards.

Sighing once more, Legolas thought back to the evening and the early night. It had started as a hollow feeling in his stomach, such as one feels when one has not eaten for a day or two. A buzzing and flipping, an urge to do something. Then, he had felt how all his cheerfulness and warmth had fled his body, and he had been left in a gloomy and depressive mood.

Something had happened or was happening. And he did not know where or to whom.

It had happened to him before, these feelings were not new to him, and as he realized what they meant, he wished that he had listened to the little alarm bells in his head much earlier. Estel was in danger, or the twins were. And he, he was sitting on this mountain, leagues away from them and unable to help.

_A great friend you are. Has Estel not told you that he feels something dark and dreary coming? Has he not told you that something would happen? Has he not told you that he feared to never see his brothers again? Aye, he has. And what have you done? Right, sat there and done nothing._

Sighing and rubbing his eyes with his hand, the archer assessed his situation. He was high up in the mountains and it would need days to climb down again. He could, of course, make for home and then send help, but that would probably take even longer. So, should he head back to Imladris or go to Mirkwood?

It was a difficult question and one that needed thorough consideration before he could make a decision.. You don't 'take an answer.' You 'give an answer.' But the whole sentence seems odd. Legolas does not only need an answer, he needs to make a decision. So, maybe better, "…consideration, before he could make a decision." -->

_Well actually, my dear Legolas, you have already decided, have you not?_

Aye, he had. Of course he had. His heart had decided for him. Tomorrow, he would head back to Imladris, come what may.

--oOo--

Elladan had settled his brother before him on his horse, much to the protest of the younger elf, but the older of the two brothers had not backed down from his position and so Elrohir had finally surrendered. They had set out as soon as the world had stopped spinning before the younger elf's eyes.

The day was getting older and despite his urgent need to reach their home, Elladan did not dare to let the horse move faster. His twin was pale and sweat was standing on his brow, and his entire posture spoke of unease. Elrohir was not well, although he had tried to reassure his brother that he was.

So, the horse was trotting along the path at a slow pace, now and then neighing softly, feeling its riders urgency and irritated that it was not allowed to stride out faster. Elrohir´s own steed was following obediently at their side, now and then nudging the sick elf's leg and neighing nervously. It felt that something was not right.

The trees beside the path were shining in the brightest autumn colors, red and orange, yellow and brown; like a carpet made by the finest and most skilled hands and showing the most beautiful pattern that existed.

After nearly an hour of riding, Elrohir spoke softly, "Dan, if I have been poisoned, I mean…how? I am not injured."

Sighing, Elladan thought for a moment. "Maybe you have eaten something poisonous. A plant, a fruit. Have you eaten anything along the way?"

The younger elf shook his head. "No. I have eaten from our packs. We have all eaten the same."

Stillness reigned for a moment, then, "Ro, if we have all eaten the same, that would mean…" His voice trailed off as the meaning of his own words sank in.

_If we have all eaten the same, that would mean that we are all poisoned._

But maybe the elf had been poisoned after they had parted with Estel and Legolas. No, they had only eaten from their packs and had not been hunting, drinking the water from their skins and from the clear stream they had followed.

_Maybe Legolas´s stew…_

It was a strange thought, but maybe the prince had picked some poisonous mushrooms for his meal or some plant that was not edible. They had talked and bickered and laughed and jested that day. Perhaps Legolas had just overlooked the danger of the plant he had picked.

Elladan frowned slightly.

Legolas would not make such a mistake. Never. And especially not if Estel was with them. As a mortal, the young human was much more vulnerable to poisonous herbs, inedible fruits or food in general. No, the prince would not have made such a mistake. But, who then?

The horse stumbled under them, and with the sudden jerk of the animal came a painful flip in Elladan´s stomach. Then another and another. He gasped.

_Oh no…_

Stopping the horse and letting himself slide to the ground, the older Peredhel fell to his knees at the side of the way. His stomach churned and he could not help but heave violently.

"Dan? Dan!"

He was distantly aware that his brother climbed from the horse and fell to his knees beside him and was now holding his long hair out of the way, just as he had done for him only an hour ago.

He heaved and heaved until his stomach was empty and even then did the dry heaves not stop. Elladan felt the sweat on his brow and his whole body shivered and trembled slightly. After what seemed like an eternity to the sick elf, the heaving stopped and he took a shaky breath.

A wet cloth was placed in his hand, and he thankfully wet his mouth and lips with it. Elrohir soothed him gently, and when he felt able to do so, he climbed to his feet unsteadily with the help of his brother and went back to the horses, who still stood in the middle of the path, eying them curiously.

"Dan?"

"Yes."

"Better?"

The irony of the situation was not lost on both and despite the seriousness of their predicament, Elladan could not suppress his smile and mirror his twin's own words. "Aye. But still not well."

"Thought so." While the older twin leaned at the horse's side, thankful for the strength and the steadying support of the animal, he watched as his brother staggered to his own mount and retrieved the water skin. Returning, he helped Elladan to take a few sips, before packing the water away again.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing uncomfortably, Elladan locked eyes with his brother. "We need to get home."

"Aye, and quickly."

--oOo--

The red ball of the sun was already setting behind the dark horizon, burning the treetops and sending tendrils of smoky fire through the forest. The trees whispered and let their branches swing gently in the evening breeze, and the tiny flowers that still resisted the call of winter closed their blossoms and prepared for the night.

The cobblestone courtyard lay empty and silent before them as the two riders entered their home. The lights had already been lit, the yellow glowing beacons of the artificial suns giving the dusk an eerie gloom.

Supporting each other as best they could, the twins dismounted and then, bidding their faithful horses to go to the stables on their own, they slowly walked up to the huge entrance door that would welcome them into their home.

Elladan put his arm around his twin's middle while Elrohir was keeping them steady on their feet. During the day, they had both been assaulted by more waves of nausea, but the first attack had been the worst, and so they had managed to keep riding. Once or twice they had rested themselves and the horses, had calmed their stomachs and nursed their dizziness, but both had become healthier with the passing of the day. They still felt rather weak and unsteady on their feet, but they were sure that whatever had made them sick had been defeated by their own healing abilities.

Just as the two put their feet on the bottom of the marble stone steps that would lead them to the huge front doors, said doors opened and their father stepped out. Elrond was clad in a wide deep red robe of the finest make, his hair braided and carefully arranged, his entire being speaking of wisdom and grace.

Had there not been the growing frown on his worried face.

Rushing to his sons, the Lord of Imladris took his youngest son's arm and gently but firmly steered them both into the house.

"My sons, it is good to you see you home again." The master of the house said, a warm sparkle in his eyes despite his obvious frown.

Elladan sighed inwardly, this called for more. And this time, it was not even _their _fault that they came home injured…or poisoned.

"But you are not well. You are both not well," the healer stated calmly.

"No, ada. We are sick."

There was a pause and the brothers could almost see their father's mind working. It would have been rather comical to see their ada thus, had the situation not been so grave.

"Where are you injured? Have you met orcs?" Elrond instantly jumped into what all three brothers called his "healer mode": efficient, calculating, outwardly emotionless … and _"very"_ annoying.

Sighing now loudly, Elladan shook his head and turned to look at his father. "No ada, we have not been attacked, and we have met neither orcs nor other foul beasts."

Maneuvering the twins up the stairs and on their way calling to a passing servant to bring him his healing utensils as well as boiled water and some more blankets, Elrond ushered his sons into the twins´ own rooms.

Elladan and Elrohir had shared a room since their birth they had been born, but when they had grown older, they both felt the need to have their own "realm" and had thus moved into different chambers. But, not being able to be separated entirely, they had called three rooms their own, all combined with each other through doors. The left room was Elladan´s, the middle room was their study and living room, and the right room, next to Estel´s, was Elrohir´s room. It had been thus for all the centuries before the arrival of Estel; and deep inside, the twins knew that they would never change the room of their human brother. Not even after his passing; many years in the future.

Directing the brothers to the huge couch in the living room, Elrond let them sit down gently, before he rushed to the window and opened it to let the evening sunshine in and to let the fresh breeze enter. He then returned to his sons elves and knelt down before them.

Healer that he was, he needed only one look on his patients´ faces to see the illness and the signs of sickness that had befallen his sons. Elladan and Elrohir looked pale and sweaty, their hair disheveled and their eyes shining unnaturally.

Feeling uncomfortable under their father's stare, they both diverted their gaze and Elrohir muttered an "Ada, we are fine…", but Elrond would have none of it. Giving his sons his best "Who is the healer here?" eyebrow stare, he touched their foreheads gently to check their temperature.

_No fever, a good sign…_

Sighing, the healer let his hand sink down and looked at his sons. All he wanted to do was embrace them and tell them how glad he was that they were back, but he had the distinct feeling that his sons would feel like little elflings if he did. After all, they had only been gone for a bit over a week. Hardly a time span to feel worried over their well-being.

So he pushed his fatherly feelings to the background and instead, his hands resting lightly on each of the brother's knees, said, "Tell me, ionnath nin, what has happened?"

Elladan looked questioningly at his twin, but Elrohir only shrugged his shoulders. He knew as much as his brother and, therefore, it did not matter who told the tale. But inwardly, the younger twin was feeling glad that his twin had asked. After all, Elladan was the older of the two and so it was his right to tell their father of their journey. It always made Elrohir feel indescribably good when Elladan did such things. It made him feel worthy…in a way.

Taking a deep breath, the older brother began to tell of their journey. The ride to the Misty Mountains, their last night together, the stew, the next morning, the parting and the ride home. When he came to the part were the illness began, his father stopped him and tell him every single detail again and again until the older twin felt as sick to the stomach as before.

Then, as if that had not been disgusting enough, Elrond made Elrohir tell his part of the tale, too. When the younger twin finished his story, both brothers felt drained and slightly dizzy, and their only wish was to go to bed and sleep for the next few days. But nevertheless, they both knew that there was more at stake than their own well-being.

And as it seemed, the Lord of Imladris had come to the same conclusion. Sighing deeply but soundlessly, he got to his feet and walked to the huge window, overlooking the gardens of the Last Homely House.

During their talk, the servant had brought the requested items, but the healer had no intention to use them. If his sons were actually poisoned, a wrong remedy could prove fatal and any cure he tried could cause them more harm than good. He would not risk giving them anything unless he knew from what they suffered. But on the other hand…

Elrond walked silently to the couch table, where the servant had put the water and his herbs and with skilled hands he picked some herbs, crushed them and let them fall into the hot water to make a tea. A slight medicine to soothe the stomach could never be wrong. Soon, sweet smelling flavors filled the room, like a blossoming field of summer flowers.

But the twins knew better. Gulping, the brothers eyed each other warily.

_Please, not "this" tea. __I hate this tea…_

_Oh, all but not this…_

Loud, Elrohir said tentatively, with every intention to sound convincing…and failing miserably, "Ada, there is no need for that tea. We already feel better."

Elladan could have slapped his brother over the head. How could he be so obvious? Had his brother learned "nothing" from him? Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he started his own attempt. "Really, ada. The sickness has passed and we feel well."

_Aye, "that" sounded better, did it not?_

Apparently…not. Elrond just raised a finely shaped eyebrow and with an almost amused sparkle in his eyes, he handed two steaming cups of tea to the twins, who took it defeated.

Looking deep into his sons' eyes, the healer shook his head worriedly, a thing that made the twins feel uneasy. Their father was no one to worry needlessly and such an open show of his feelings was unusual.

Taking a deep breath, Elrond asked, his voice sounding slightly irritated, "You are sure that you were not injured? You have told me everything you know?"

Setting his still full cup of steaming tea on the couch table, the younger twin nodded sadly. "Aye, ada. There is nothing we hold back."

Elrond nodded at his son, then turned and walked the few steps to the open window, gazing out over the beautiful gardens of Imladris. He stood there for some long minutes, his face showing his concentration and his tall figure unmoving.

Taking a deep breath and nodding as if he had come to a conclusion, the Lord of Imladris suddenly turned away form the serene look before him and locked eyes with his twins. Gazing from one to the other, he said calmly, his voice never betraying his inner turmoil, "Then it has to be as you say. You are poisoned. We do not know which poison, how it affects you, how you were poisoned, or what to give you to counteract its effects." After a short pause, he continued, "And furthermore, we do not know if someone else has been poisoned."

It was clear that the healer referred to the Prince of Mirkwood and his foster son, but knowing this and speaking this possibility out loud were two very different things.

Tucking a strand of wayward brow hair behind his ear, the elder twin asked his father, "What are we going to do now, adar?"

Looking at his sons and seeing their hopeful faces, their entire beings rigid with anticipation and trust in their wise father, the elven Lord could have sighed out loud. He knew from many years of experience that there was no way to hold his sons in Imladris. They would search for the prince and their brother, no matter what he ordered or bid them to do.

Having decided on what to do, he told his sons, „Drink. All of it. You will feel better afterwards, believe me. While you clean up and change your clothing, I will see if I can find you something to eat." And after another look at the faces of his sons, he added, "Something light, I guess. A broth will do. And then I will send a messenger hawk to King Thranduil. If Legolas is poisoned as well, Thranduil needs to send out some warriors to meet the prince halfway up the Mountains. Do not worry, my sons, I will send Rheniolim; he is one of the fasted birds that we have, and he will reach Mirkwood in time. I wish I could send Aewblebi to the ranger camp, but we do not know where it is located and I fear that any bird would find it too late to help."

Elladan sat up straight. Had he heard correctly? Could his father imply that….

"Ada, do you mean you will send us to Estel?" Elrohir could not help but ask in wonder.

Sighing, the lord send a quick smile at his boys, then he nodded, "If you are well in the morning, we will see about that." Smiling encouragingly at the twins, Elrond turned and left the room.

Elladan sighed relieved; he and his brother would go to find Estel. Just as he wanted to empty his still full cup of steaming tea into a nearby standing flower pot, the Lord of Imladris tucked his head back in, smiling gently.

Snapping his arm back and trying to look as innocent as he could, Elladan raised one eyebrow in askance.

"Drink it up, Elladan. And you too, Elrohir. I will know if you have drunken it or not. You need to be strengthened for your journey." And with these gentle, but nevertheless commanding words, their father left and closed the door behind him.

The brothers sat on the couch motionless, both still holding their tea in hand, and only when they thought they heard the door of their father's study fall shut, did they dare to breathe again.

"How does he do that? I mean, does he have eyes at the back of his head? Ro, why have you not told me that he was not yet gone?"

Elladan was venting his adrenalin of being caught red handed in his usual manner: Blaming Elrohir.

"Me? Dan, you could have paid more attention yourself. After all, it was not I who tried to drown this poor little flower with this foul tasting brew that looks as if it comes right from the bottom of an orc´s…"

"Ro!"

"What?"

"I feel bad enough, all right? No need to add to my sick stomach."

"Sorry, muindor. Won't do it again."

"Make sure you will not. And besides," Elladan swallowed down his tea in one big gulp, "I have drunken mine. And you?" Smiling sweetly, he rose to his feet and walked slowly over to his own room.

Hearing his brother down his tea as well and vividly imagining the grimace Elrohir was pulling, Elladan stopped at his door. Gripping the handle, he turned once more.

"Ro, do you think that Estel and Legolas, I mean, do you think they…are ill too?"

Sad eyes met his own and when Elrohir answered, it was a dejected voice that reached Elladan´s ears. "I don't know, Dan. But I just hope they are not. Especially not Estel. If we feel this bad, how must he feel?"

--oOo--

Terrible. Horrible. Gruesome. Wretched. Tormented. And that were only some of the terms that flittered through his pain filled head as Estel tried to breathe. Just to breathe. In and out. When had this simple task become this difficult? His entire body shivered and trembled, his stomach felt sick and his head throbbed mercilessly.

The pain attacks did not lessen during the dark and cold night, instead they became fiercer with every wave of agony that hit him. The second attack assaulted him shortly before he reached his pack with the healing utensils and the pain in his stomach exploded with such a ferocity that he was not even able to scream out.

His breath caught in his throat and his breathing stopped for the time of the attack as his lungs failed him. Sweating and trembling, he lay on the cold ground, his legs drawn up to his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. When it passed, he did not move, clutching his stomach and gasping for much needed air. A groan escaped his blue tinged lips, his bottom lip quivering slightly from the pain his body was forced to endure.

After some moments, Estel sat up gingerly with his hands still pressed firmly over his belly. Breathing heavily, he tried to reach his pack, but no such luck. As soon as he moved his body, another horrible wave of white hot agony engulfed him, centered in his belly, and with a choked gasp he fell back to the ground, shocked and shivering.

His body hit the cold ground under him with a heavy thud, and he drew his legs up to his chest instinctively. The shivering increased and the dry leaves that covered the forest ground shifted under his body as he moved unwillingly.

Clenching his teeth with such force that it hurt, the man concentrated on his breathing, willing his lungs to work, to support his system. He could feel nothing than pain, his body aflame with agony.

After a minute, the pain subsided, leaving him trembling and sweating, his starved lungs gasping for air and filling his lungs with the cold night air. Estel did not dare to move, his chest heaving and his eyes tightly closed. Deep inside he knew that this had not been the last attack.

Indeed, they lasted through the whole night. Every time he tried to move, his body sent fiery tendrils of pain through his being, making him gasp and choke. More than once Estel wished that unconsciousness would claim him, but the short intervals between the assaults of the pain gave his tired body enough time to gather a little bit of its strength. He was awake through the darkest hours of the night, and not even the stars were able to soothe him. No, instead they mocked him, glittering in the sky so far above him, so full of beauty and grace, laughing at his misery.

Fever did not set in, and the human was more than a little astonished at that fact. As was he about the fact that he felt a fierce pain in his stomach, but not the urge to heave or vomit.

_A strange sort of flu…_

He lay there the entire night, not daring to move and only taking shallow breaths out of fear of triggering another wave of agony. In the end it mattered little, as the pain came nevertheless, always starting in his belly and from there claiming the rest of his body, like a fire that spread through a dry forest.

And as if that was not bad enough, the pain intensified with every assault, as did the duration of the attacks. The first had been only a few seconds long, the last attack lasted almost five minutes, making his entire world spin, and the trees around him wave in and out of focus as his oxygen deprived mind started to collapse. He had not been able to breathe properly during the last attack and it took him a long time to again gather his surroundings.

The day came slowly and the pain lessened, much to Estel´s relief, but then coldness sat in. He shivered more heavily and drew his legs even closer to his chest, his arms hugging his body fiercely. He shook so hard that his head banged onto the ground repeatedly, and Estel tried to focus on his harsh breathing to control his body.

After some long moments, the shivering eased slightly, and the ranger slowly opened his eyes and uncurled himself.

Timidly, he crawled to his pack and just ate the first few herbs that fell into his hands, not caring what they were for. He carried no dangerous herbs and therefore they could only help him. He was so exhausted that he did not even gulped them down with some water.

Collapsing on his pack, he fell asleep where he was, and the deep slumber would have helped his tired body had he not lain on the cold ground with nothing more than his tunic and cloak for shelter. It had been a cold night and as it had been clear and cloudless, thus the day proved to be colder than the last ones. But the man slept, not noticing the temperature.

And furthermore, he never sensed his faithful horse that had eyed him worriedly during the night and that now walked over to its master, afraid due to the unusual behavior of the human. Bending its big brown head, the steed nudged the man gently at the head, nuzzling the dark hair. When there was no reaction, the horse whinnied softly and then nudged the ranger again, harder this time.

Again the human failed to react, and so the horse did the only thing it could do. It stood over its master, ears flicking right and left, protecting the man and shielding him from the wind that rushed through the forest as good as it could.

Estel woke in the late afternoon because of his trembling and shivering body and to a strange sound, as if porcelain was being clashed together. After a few long moments he became aware that it were his own clattering teeth.

His body was cold and stiff, his muscles cramped from the long stillness and the chill of the night and day, and he needed five attempts to bring his body into a sitting position. At least, the movement did not trigger another pain attack. Encouraged by the thought, the human tried to get to his feet, but his legs were not able to hold his weight, and so he fell back to the ground with a painful thud.

_Great._

For nearly an hour he sat on the chilly ground and rubbed his arms and legs, massaging the muscles and warming his limbs. His second attempt to climb to his feet was as unsuccessful as the first, and with a defeated sigh he leaned back against his pack and, after a few minutes of struggling with himself, resumed his task of massaging.

The only chance to survive the next night was to get a fire going and to get to his blanket, no matter the risk of attracting predators of the night with the light. He needed the warmth desperately. His fourth attempt to stand finally succeeded, and with wobbling legs he made it back to his blanket, collected some dry wood and hurriedly built a small fire before his strength left him again.

The exercise made him tremble even more, and the headache that had been slumbering at the edges of his consciousness returned with a vengeance. He took some more herbs, this time keeping attention which ones, and after a few sips of ice-cold water, Estel leaned back at the boulder he was sitting against and just waited.

Although he had not eaten for over a day, he was not in the least hungry and just the thought of eating made him feel nauseous.

Now, as dusk fell, the small fire still burned merrily, sending flickering shadows over his tired face, reflecting on the cold sweat that stood on his brow. While he had felt weak and ill during the day, with the coming of the darkness his body seemed to shut down slowly.

Starting with the feeling in his legs, then his arms and hands. They suddenly tickled as if used after a long time of rest, then the pain came, slowly and not very fierce, almost gentle after the last night's attacks. And then, his legs and arms started to become numb, as well as his hands.

Feeling the fear rise in his stomach, Estel took a deep breath and tried to rein in his feelings. This was just a flu, after all, and he had been sick more than once. He knew what he had to do, had done it countless times for himself and others, actually.

Slightly frantic, the man tried to move his arms and hands, to make fists and to relax the muscles again, but it took only a few minutes until all feeling left them and they became numb. Fear gripped his heart with icy fingers and he wanted to scream and yell, but then, slowly, his breathing became labored.

Alone in the wilderness, ill and in pain, he would be easy prey to the foul beasts that roamed this area. He could not lift his sword or use his bow.

_I am not even able to lift myself. Even a child could slay me now. Something is wrong. Very wrong._

Although the symptoms had started as a flu, the newest ones were new to the man and he began to fear that he was ailing from something much more sinister than just a common human sickness. But what it was, he had no clue yet.

Every breath he took burned like fire in his lungs, and the process of inhaling and exhaling was excruciatingly difficult and exhausting. Closing his eyes and focusing on the simple task of breathing, the ranger did not notice the fall of darkness around him or the sounds of the night.

His whole world existed of pain and his labored breathing. His faithful horse was standing watch over him, never leaving his side, and when the moon appeared in the sky and the stars awoke, he fell into an exhausted slumber.

His last conscious thought was nevertheless a hopeful one.

_Perhaps I will feel better tomorrow…_

--oOo--

Dagnir was pleased. Oh, he was more than that, he was delighted. The hunter had observed the ranger's struggle during the night and with every gasp of him the corners of his own mouth had twitched, until finally a satisfied smirk had shown on his unshaved face. The attacks had come repeatedly and the more the ranger had writhed on the ground and clutched his stomach, the more happy Dagnir had become.

The poison maker had not lied. This poison was better than most others he had seen. Silently, so as not to give away his position, the former captain had crouched behind the bushes, the small breeze blowing in his face so as not to alarm the horse, and he had watched the events unfold.

It had been such a wonderful sight for him to see his enemy grounded, in pain and absolutely helpless. It would have been an easy job for him to just enter the camp, draw his sword and end this miserable life. But no, Dagnir had fisted his hands and resisted the urge to kill his nemesis there and then. It would have been too quick a death for the elf friend. Much too quick and painless.

The day had come cold and misty, the weak autumn sun not able to truly warm the lands. During the day not much had happened, the ranger had slept most of the time, the horse keeping vigil over him and therewith making any attempt to sneak into the camp impossible. If the ranger would have woken at all, had been another matter, but the hunter had not wanted to take the chance.

Now, night had fallen again, and Dagnir had returned to his own camp and his men. He had seen enough for today and furthermore, he did not know how the poison would develop and whether the first stage was over now. What if the ranger woke during the night and saw him? Then all would have been in vain, and he would be pressed to kill the man there and then. It would bring him the desired result, but the way to his goal was what mattered to him. Dagnir wanted to see the ranger suffer.

When he returned to his small camp, he immediately saw the figure of the poacher stand near the fire, warming his hands over the flickering flames. Reaching his side, Dagnir spoke lowly, as he was used to do, his voice scratchy, "Have you set the trap?"

The poacher nodded once and then Podlim answered, his voice harsh and hard, "Yes, the trap is set. A day's ride from here, near the mountains. He will have no chance to escape, as he will be trapped at three sides by the mountains, and we will block the fourth. All is as you wished."

When Dagnir only lifted an eyebrow, he added hastily, "Sir."

A small nod came from the former captain and the poacher relaxed slightly. He had not wanted to go on this mission, but a debt was a debt and even a man such as he paid his debts. Once, many years ago, the former captain had saved him from finding his neck in a sling and now, Dagnir was demanding the price for that deed. Not for the first time Podlim wished he had just died that day, as a poacher who had "accidentally" killed a rich man who had been on his way to Tharbad. Things would have been much easier for him that way.

The poacher was so deep in thoughts that he nearly missed his employer's next words. "Podlim, I want you to go back the way we have come. Set up more traps, for the case that someone should follow us. Take Hador with you to cover your tracks. I expect you to be back tomorrow afternoon."

Flicking his tongue over his bottom lip, the hunter nodded and reached for his pack with his right hand. Four fingers tightened around the pack and he threw it over his shoulder. A few years ago, the man had lost his index finger in a quarrel, and the loss of it still weighted on the hunter's mind.

It had been meant as a punishment, a sentence thought out by his fellow hunters. Hador had always been a man who could never get enough, was it prey, or riches, or women. To him, it did not matter what it was he hunted. All he needed to be happy was to feel the rush of the hunt and the pleasure of the kill.

It had been this desire of him that had nearly killed him. During a hunting season with his fellow hunters, Hador tried to kill his companions during the night, to steal their game and empty their pockets. They had stopped him from doing so, and had then sentenced him to the worst punishment imaginable for a hunter.

Cutting off all fingers, therewith making it impossible to ever wield a sword or bow again.

They had beaten him brutally before removing his finger. He still remembered the slow movement of the rusty knife, the blunt blade that had scratched over his bone, the time it had taken to sewer the finger from his hand.

Just as the other hunters had started with his next finger, their voices laughing and taunting, Dagnir had interrupted them. Hador did not really know what the former captain had told them or why he had even helped him, but his fellow hunters had released him and given him into the care of the white haired Gondorian.

When Dagnir had come to him some months ago, the hunter had known that it was payday.

Podlim nodded, took up his pack and their horses´ reins, and so they headed silently out into the night to do their master's bidding.

Morgwath, the tall killer, watched the men leave and then, as if this whole affair had nothing to do with him, he shifted to a more comfortable position and continued checking his slim arrows for splinters, his eyes never leaving his task

Sitting down near the fire, Dagnir took out his small hunting knife and played with it in his hands, his thoughts wandering back to the young ranger.

_Oh, it has been so much fun to see the scum suffering. He will feel all the pain that exists on arda. My trap is set, the plan in motion. Soon, maybe even tomorrow, the little fly will be caught in the spider's net and then, I will devour him alive._

Smirking in anticipation, the former captain clenched the blade of his knife in his hands so tightly that it cut into his palms until blood flowed down his wrist. But he did not notice it; his mind was focused on the following day.

A gust of wind rushed through the fire, sending sparks flying high into the night sky and casting eerie shadows over Dagnir´s face.

_Tomorrow…_

--oOo--

Morning came cold and misty, the sun hidden behind milky clouds. The wind that blew over the high mountains smelled wet and brought the distinct flavor of snow with it. It howled around the gray stones and resounded from the peaks.

It had not rained during the night, but the dew that had settled on the stones had frozen and the white crystals gave the scene a serene touch, pure innocence that had covered the whole world.

Legolas had woken with the coming of dawn, and after a quick breakfast he had left his camp and started on his way back to Imladris. Or rather, down the mountains, where he would go then, he did not yet know.

Now, a few hours after dawn, the most of the frost had melted, making the stones slippery and wet, and so the elf had dismounted and led his faithful horse over the treacherous ground. He rode an elven horse which were surefooted and clever, but the archer did not want to take an unnecessary risk. It irked him that the weather slowed him down, but he knew that he needed to proceed with caution if he wanted to make it down the mountain alive.

Tightening his traveling cloak around his slim shoulders, the prince looked at the way before him. There was not much to see, even with his keen eyesight. The morning mist had not lifted, and he could not see more than a few yards ahead. The damp air sneaked under his clothing, and where his skin was exposed, a fine layer of water had covered it.

_If just this mist was not this thick. I can hardly see where I am going. Not to mention which way I am going._

Shaking his head, the elf sighed deeply, a small smile appearing on his face.

_Well, the Misty Mountains are not called the Misty Mountains for nothing. Although, right now I wish they were called the "Small Mountains", oh no, even better, the "Non Existing Very Sunny and Safe Mountains"._

Grinning at his own thoughts, the archer led his horse over a patch of moss and dark stones. This part of the mountains was overshadowed by the looming peaks, and it usually lay in darkness. The sun did not reach this place, which made it an excellent spot for moss and slime. The stones were slippery and smooth, and if he paid no attention, he would find himself tumbling down the mountainside.

Neighing softly, his horse flicked its long tail and stopped in its tracks. Surprised, Legolas turned and patted its neck gently. Something had clearly upset the steed, as it shook its big brown head from side to side, nostrils flaring.

"Shh, mellon. What is it?"

Reaching to his back and removing his bow, the prince notched an arrow. Whatever had frightened his horse was hidden by the thick gray fog that covered the area. Milky waves of it floated before his face, and the sight seemed to reduce by the second. A few more moments, and he would not even be able to see his hand before his eyes.

_Wonderful…_

The area that Legolas had reached was not only a dark and desolate place, but also a spot that was known to be frequented by mountain goblins. They loved the shadow and the cold, the cracks and fissures in the mountainside providing them with shelter and cover.

Under normal circumstances, the beasts did not hunt during daylight, and therefore a traveler had nothing to fear. But given the veiled sun, the shadows that lingered over the ground and the mist that seemed to be everywhere, it was not beyond the foul creatures to come out by day.

Stepping away from his horse and onto some rocks that lay near the small path he had been following, the prince tilted his head to the side. Stillness had settled over the area. There was no sound, no whisper beside his steed's nervous neighing.

Frowning and tightening his grip on his yellow fletched arrow, the archer tried to penetrate the mist. If the goblins had truly left their hideouts and tried to attack him, he needed to see them before they saw him.

Legolas did not know if the creatures could see in this mist, but he was sure that they would not waste this chance to slay fresh meat. Animals rarely crossed the mountains and travelers avoided passing this area at night. To kill an elf would be a feast for the foul beasts.

The fog seemed to thicken and wafts of it floated through the air. Within moments, the stony ground had vanished from the prince's sight. His horse that stood only a little way away from him was nearly invisible. It still neighed and pawed at the ground nervously, which told the archer that the danger had not yet passed.

Again concentrating on his surroundings, the elf tried to catch a sound or a sign that he was not alone.

Suddenly, the rustling and clinking sound of small pebbles tumbling down the mountain reached his ears. A second later, the small stones hit his right shoulder.

Snapping around and in the same fluid motion lifting his bow, the elf let his arrow fly at exactly the same moment that a heavy and hairy body crashed into him, sending them both to the unforgiving ground, sinking into the gray mist.

--oOo--

The sun had risen over the Last Homely House, dipping the world into a bleak light. Nearly invisible rays did not warm the ground, and the morning dew had frozen on the grass and leafs. The trees were painted in white and the last flowers of the season had lost the fight against the coming winter.

Spider webs hung in the bushes, the thin threads glittering in the weak light. They looked as if little diamonds had been caught in them, as the chill had turned even the smallest water droplets into icy crystals.

The Lord of Imladris stood on his balcony, overlooking the gardens. Dawn had lifted the shadow that had lingered over the hidden valley, but it had not been able to lighten the darkness that had claimed the healer's heart.

Elrond had been up all night, he had consulted his advisors, had searched through his herbology books in his huge library and he had watched over his sons' sleep.

His twins were poisoned; he had no longer any doubt about that. What he did not know was the way the poison had entered their body, but from what the brothers had told him, they had not been injured. Therefore, the only possible alternative was, that they had eaten something that had contained the poison.

The healer knew that his sons were well trained in herb lore and knew all plants and animals that lived in this part of Arda. They would not eat anything that they did not know, or were so foolish as to touch an unknown plant or animal. And neither would the prince of Mirkwood or Estel, both capable travelers and accustomed to life in the wild.

Although the wise ruler of elves did not know how his sons had been poisoned, he could not help but wonder if it had to do anything with the stew that the blond archer had cooked. Elladan had told him of the strange noises that they had heard and Elrohir had told of them leaving their campsite.

Perhaps something had happened to the meal while they had been away? Mayhap an animal had fallen into it? An insect, small and seemingly insignificant, but capable of causing these effects? It was possible, if not very likely.

No, what was more likely was that someone had entered the campsite and had poisoned the stew. Elrond, healer that he was, knew that his sons would never have fallen ill lightly. If there had been a foul substance in their meal, it must have been a strong and potent one to make them ill.

And if they had been poisoned, then Legolas and Estel had been poisoned as well. The thought made his stomach flip, and he felt as if an icy hand wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed it till it stopped beating.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Elrond took a deep breath and calmed himself. He needed to be strong now, to stay alert and focused. His sons, all of them, needed his help. He had long debated with himself whether he should truly send the twins to find their human brother, but deep inside something told him that it was the right thing to do.

They will not stay willingly but leave Imladris to search for their little brother one way or the other. It is better to let them go with my blessing, then to add to their burden with my worry.

Opening his eyes and focusing on the sight before him, the elf stepped closer to the ivy-entwined railing. Placing his hands on the smooth wood under his fingers, the Lord sighed softly.

_I wish I could accompany them._

Elrond had not forgotten the strange feeling that had befallen him the day his sons and Legolas had left. He had not had a premonition, but he had felt something. Now, this feeling had intensified, and he could feel something nudge his mind. It touched him with feathery fingers and caught his attention, but every time he reached out to it with his mind, it drew away and out of his reach. It irritated him and worried him equally.

He knew that something was amiss, and he was certain that it had to do with all his sons, elven and human. They needed to find the man and bring him back to Imladris. The sooner the twins left, the sooner they would find him and be able to help him, should he have fallen ill, too.

While the twins would be gone, Elrond would prepare his healing utensils and the chambers. There were many books in his library, as Imladris housed the biggest and best-equipped assortment of books beside Minas Tirith. He would search every single book and paper to find the antidote for the poison.

Until now, the symptoms were quite common, and it could have been attributed to a lot of plants or poisons, but the healer had the distinct feeling that the solution to this problem was not an easy one to find. If someone had truly put something in the stew, then he had surely used something that was not known to every healer wide and far.

It was not an encouraging thought, but Elrond knew that even he, one of the oldest and wisest healers in all of Arda, would probably not know of the poison and its remedy. Mayhap it was time to call for help. The elf was not one who asked for help easily or unnecessarily, but the strange feeling inside of him would not let go. He felt deep inside that he would need all the help that he could get before this was over.

While his sons had slept, he had sent the messenger bird to Mirkwood, alerting the King of the situation. He would send another bird to Lothlorien. The Lady of the Golden Wood was the most skilled healer east of the Misty Mountains, and if someone was able to help him, than his mother-in-law.

And he would send out other birds, small ones that covered many miles in little time. Gandalf wandered this world from east to west and from north to the south, but with a bit of luck, the old Istar would hear of his plight and come to his help.

The wizard was wise beyond his years and had traveled the earth for millennia. During his travels Gandalf had learned of many things and mayhap his knowledge could help them to cure his sons from this poison. And if the Grey Traveler did not know the answer to their problems, then maybe he knew of one who could help them.

Taking a deep breath and letting the fresh morning air enter his lungs and fill his whole being, Elrond turned and headed back into the house. There was much to be done and even more to think about. In a few hours, the twins would leave the elven haven and rush out into the unknown. It made the elven lords heart constrict in sadness and fear to know that he had to sent his sons on a journey from which they might never come back again.

--oOo--

The forest was not silent, but with the break of dawn, the nightly predators had returned to their shelters, waiting for the night to come once more. But, two hunters still roamed the woods, eager to fulfill their task.

Morning dew clung to their cloaks and now and then one of them stumbled over a hidden root or boulder. The woods were dense, the trees old and the roots gnarled, and with the thick underbrush barring their path, the two humans had a hard time to make any progress.

Hador and Podlim had abandoned their horses at a clearing, making sure that the beasts would not run, and had then made their way into the trees on foot. Both were experienced in what they were doing, and if they wanted they could be as stealthy as any ordinary ranger. But now, shortly after dawn, their feet were tired and their tread heavier than it had been during the night.

The deep voice of Hador broke the lasting stillness, "I do not see the reason behind this task. Really. I have covered our tracks. Not even a blasted elf could track us." Hador had not been happy with the former captain's order to set up more traps, but he had said nothing at the camp.

Now however, many leagues away from their companions and the angry stare of the white haired captain, his tongue became lose and he vented his anger. Did this Dagnir really think so low of him? He would not have survived so many years on his own in the wilds without knowing how to cover his tracks.

The other man, Podlim, only shook his head and moved his hand through his red hair. He did like this task as much as Hador did. After he had followed the ranger and had set the planned trap, he had not even been able to rest, let alone sleep. He was tired and his body hurt, due to the long march that he had forced it through. But, Dagnir was their captain and they had to follow his commands.

"Dagnir knows what he is doing. He has dealt with these creatures before and knows what they are capable of."

A short snort was the only answer the hunter gave him. Sighing inside, the poacher tightened his green cloak around his shoulders. For the umpteenth time he asked himself why he had not taken his knife and killed himself the moment the former captain had left his room a few months ago.

Podlim had no problem with killing a ranger. They were a thorn in the eyes of all poachers. Rangers tended to spoil their fun and hand them over to the authorities once they caught them red handed. A dead ranger was a good ranger, in his eyes. But elves?

Drawing up his nose and swiping his sleeve over it, the poacher nearly tripped over another gnarled root. _Damn this forest_. Podlim had never hunted so far to the east, let alone this near to the Misty Mountains; his preferred area to set up his tracks and hunt his prey was farther to the west and south. He loved the open plains and the grassy hills, not this dense forest with trees that seemed to talk and to whisper among themselves.

Suddenly, Hador spoke up once more, his voice sounding almost exited, "Do you think he will let us have one of it?"

Confused and ripped out of his own thoughts, the poacher replied, "One of what?"

Hador gave him a look as if he was talking to a dim witted troll. Flicking his thick tongue over his lips, the hunter answered quickly, "One of the elves, of course. Think he will let me have one?"

_For what purpose does he want to have an elf? The next slave market is too far in the north to reach it safely. _

Still a bit confused, the red haired human asked his companion, "For what end? The next market and trade post is too far away from here."

A grin spread over the hunter's face, making his eyes gleam in open pleasure. Once more wetting his lips, a habit that slowly but surely annoyed the poacher, the hunter leaned closer to his companion before he answered, "Well you know, I have always wanted to have one of them. I ever wanted to kill an elf. Shall be one of the best kills. They say you can see their soul flee from their body." And with an afterthought, he added, "I want to see its eyes when I kill it."

A shudder went down the poacher's back.

_Great, I do not only have to submit to a very dangerous Gondorian, but have a crazy companion as well._

Nevertheless, the poacher knew his life depended on the success of this mission and truly, what did he care if Hador killed an elf? He had never met one and even if he did, they could die as all other beings.

Shrugging his shoulders and wiping his hand through his hair, tangling it and making it stand at odd angles, he answered indifferently, "If you ask him, why not. He said they will die one way or another."

His companion gave him a queer look, then gazed out at the forest before him. Hador seemingly nodded to himself, before he told the other human, "Aye, he will give me one, I am sure. And you, Podlim, make sure that your trap does not kill it. I want it for me."

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the poacher bit his bottom lip. This was a situation he had not anticipated. Dagnir had made it clear that his trap was to stop anyone who should follow him. Had he meant that his traps were to kill the elves? Or was he only supposed to stall them? He did not know, but he was sure that Hador would not allow him to set a deadly trap.

And what if the Gondorian wanted their pursuers to be eliminated? What if they appeared at their camp or followed them and ruined their plans?

_Dagnir will kill me._

Taking a deep breath, the human glanced at his companion. No matter what the former captain had wanted him to do, now, with Hador at his side, there was no possibility for him to set a death trap.

_But that does not mean that I cannot set a trap that turns out to kill the elves. Hador is no poacher and he does not know as much about my business as he might think. My traps always work and if I want to kill our pursuers, I will._

So, he just nodded, and the two hunters vanished behind the tall and ancient trees.

--oOo--

The first thing he heard when his body finally decided to wake up was the chirping of a bird. It was a happy melody, full of life and warmth. His ears seemed to hear not only the singing of the bird, but also the running of water and then the wind that floated through the trees and made the last leaves of autumn whisper.

Slowly, his other senses woke too, and Estel felt the hard ground under his body and the dry leaves on which he rested. He could smell the wet rich earth and feel the fresh dew under his fingers.

He felt neither coldness nor heat, a thing that confused his still half asleep mind. Something told him that he should feel cold…or hot, for that matter. Nevertheless, he just felt… well. A branch seemed to swing in the wind, because a moment later the ranger sensed a weak ray of the sun shine down on his face.

Breathing deeply, Estel unconsciously decided that it was time for him to wake up. He did not really know why, but something told him to move slowly, if at all. Therefore, the human started by opening his eyes.

At least he wanted to. His eyelids seemed to weigh tons, and it took him some attempts before he could pry his eyes open. The sight that greeted him upon focusing, had him awake in the blink of an eye.

A huge head was only inches apart from his own face; two deep brown eyes staring into his. A rosy muzzle was near his nose and then suddenly, his horse shook its head and neighed happily.

Lifting his hand to his heart, Estel closed his eyes and sighed relieved. It was just his horse. For a moment he had thought it was an enemy. He took another deep sigh and then suddenly, he went completely still.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinked and then lifted his hand before his face.

_I can move!_

Not yet believing what he felt, the ranger tried to move his other arm as well. It moved without problems and he felt neither pain nor uneasiness. Confused, Estel sat up straight and then stretched his legs. When this neither triggered another wave of pain nor any unmoral reaction, the ranger took a deep breath and released it slowly.

_At last. I knew it was just a flu. A strange flu, that I agree, but a flu after all. Thank Eru._

A whinny brought him back to the present. Looking up, he saw his horse stand before him, tail swishing agitatedly, black eyes shimmering. If Estel had not known better, he would have sword his horse looked impatient.

_Poor Thenidair. I have not cared for him in…how long has it been? Almost two days? Oh, he deserves better than this. But it could not be helped. Still…_

Estel scrambled to his feet slowly, not yet willing to trust the painlessness and peace his body was in. Straightening his back and rolling his head and neck to soften tense muscles, the human stood there for a moment.

It felt so good not to hurt. The last day and nights had been agonizing and with the coldness of coming winter, the ranger had felt anything but comfortable. Now, with the warm rays of the sun caressing his face and the wind gently soothing his body and refreshing his senses, he felt more alive than he had done in the last days.

Sighing and breathing the fresh air in deeply, Estel smiled softly.

_If feels so good to be me again. _

Still smiling gently, the man approached his faithful horse and stroked its muzzle with soft fingers. The animal nickered and stepped even closer. Pushing its warm and rosy nose into the ranger's cupped hand, the horse nudged him gently, as if it needed to reassure itself that its master was finally back.

Whispering soothing words in the gray tongue, Estel scratched his steed behind the ears and then patted its neck.

"Sh, my good boy. Aye, I know you were worried. Amin hiraetha, boy. But now I am well again. You'll see, soon we will be on our way again and you will feel the soft earth of the plain under your hooves and enjoy the lush green grass. You are a good friend, boy. Thank you for staying with me and watching over me when I have not been able to."

Once more patting the steeds neck, Estel scratched its forehead gently. The horse tossed its head as if to accept his words and then it nickered, blowing its nostrils. Eying the ranger with big black eyes, the horse nudged Estel's chest before it nickered once more.

Grinning widely, the man lifted an eyebrow, before he reached inside his tunic and took out some small pieces of sugar. Estel used the store the sugar there since his first riding lesson. When he had been a young child, he had been afraid of the huge horses and it had not been until Elladan had told him about the animals' favor for sugar that he had lost his fear.

After all, horses could not be bad when they liked sugar, could they?

Letting the steed eat the sugar from his hand, the ranger took a good look around the camp. The fire had burned down and had died some time during the night. His pack and things were strewn over the clearing and some of the food he had brought had been exposed to the cold air and the wet dew.

Patting his horse one last time and smiling at the disappointed whinny it gave him, Estel made his way slowly over to his pack. Kneeling down, he examined his belongings.

The few apples that he had brought, the last from the season, were now inedible. When he had been searching for the herbs, he had accidentally left them atop the other things in his pack and the coldness and the dew had first frozen the food and then soaked it. The once red and green apples looked bloated and when Estel lifted one to smell it, he turned up his nose. They smelled rotten.

Sighing, he set them aside and then examined the rest of his food. The way bread was still securely wrapped in big leaves and seemed to be intact. The dried meat and fruits looked weatherworn too. The meat was swollen and slightly green, whereas the fruits looked a bit wet, but otherwise all right.

The rest of his pack looked well. His clothing was still dry and his other things were intact as well. But he could not say that about his healing utensils. In his hurt and exhausted state, Estel had not thought about packing them away after he had used them. They shared the foods fate; most of the herbs were unusable, their healing power lost to wind, dew and frost. Some of the plants had survived the nightly onslaught, but with a heartfelt sigh, Estel had to dispose most of his stock.

_I will need days to replenish my pack. And some of the herbs were rare and I will not find then here. Ada will have my hide if he ever hears of this. What kind of healer am I to be so careless? _But a voice in the back of the head seemed to answer his rhetorical question_: An ill healer. A 'very' ill healer._

With a shake of his head, Estel stored the still good things in his pack and then made his way over to the died fire. Although he felt better than the last days and the pain seemed to be gone, his body was stiff and he felt the coldness of the day slip under his clothes.

Taking up some dead branched, he build a fire and soon the flames were burning merrily, flickering and warming his body. Sitting down near it to feel the warmth, Estel began to make a tea, using some of the herbs that were still dry. Only some minutes later, a sweet fragrance filled the air as the tea was ready.

Sipping the strawberry-jasmine tea slowly, the man wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and began to assess his situation.

The walking and movements had not triggered another pain attack and besides being a little stiff and cold, he felt well. His head felt normal too, and with a small grin Estel decided that the axe swinging orc had perhaps retired.

Whatever illness had claimed him, it seemed to be gone. Nevertheless, he knew from experience that an illness that this could not be overcome in a day. But, as it was now, he felt well and there was nothing that indicated that the sickness would return, and that was an encouraging thought.

Most of his food was gone, but what he still had would last him until he arrived at the ranger camp. The lembas he had brought would alone be enough to nourish him during his trip. But, on the other hand, Estel had never been a friend of the elvish way bread. It was not that it did not taste good, nor that it tasted bad. It was just that it tasted after…nothing.

The elves of Imladris sometimes mixed the dough with herbs to give it some taste, but the bread he had brought was plain and without any herbs. After all, he had brought other food as well and had not thought that the need would arise to rely on the way bread as sole resource for food.

The fruits he had brought would last a few days, but not long enough to reach the camp. Taking another sip of his steaming tea, Estel decided that he would need to search the forest for some fruits or nuts. Winter had not yet claimed the lands completely and there was still much food to be found in the forest. Perhaps he would even find some mushrooms, which he could then dry and store.

Frowning, the man realized that it had been…almost two days since he had last eaten. The night he had first set up camp in this clearing had been filled with pain and agony, as had the next day. He had been to exhausted and ….paralyzed during the last night to eat anything. And he had not eaten anything since his waking, too.

Surprisingly, Estel felt no hunger and the thought of food alone made his empty stomach queasy. Nevertheless, he knew that he needed to eat something to keep up his strength. Reaching for his pack he took out a leaf wrapped lembas. Lifting the bread to his mouth he took a timid bite. Had it not been for his healer's training, he would have spit out the bread immediately. It felt strange in his mouth and he wanted to remove it. But, knowing that he needed to eat, he forced himself to chew and then swallow the bread. Gulping it down with his tea, Estel frowned at his meal.

After some moments of contemplation, he grimaced and then wrapped the way bread in the leaf, putting it back in his pack. He was not hungry and in this moment this outweighed the knowledge that he would need to eat sooner or later.

_Let it be later, then. I will eat before I rest tonight._

Closing his pack to keep his belongings safe and secure, Estel drank the rest of his tea before he climbed to his feet. The loss of his healing utensils was more pressing to him than his lack of tasty food.

_I should search the area around the campsite. Mayhap I can find some herbs here. Usually, some of the basic healing herbs grow near small streams such as the one that flows here. Well, lets see what I can come up with. But if my luck stays as it is at the moment, I will find nothing. Oh no, with my luck, I will find something: Trouble._

Grinning at his last thought and shaking his head as if to expel the sarcastic thought, Estel tightened his cloak around his shoulders. After kicking some earth over the fire to make it smaller and reduce the danger of the flames, the ranger patted his steed once more before he vanished in the deep forest to search for the herbs.

The weight of his sword felt reassuring at his side, the sun reflecting on the silver hilt.

_Perhaps I find some calendula or rosehip. That would help for the beginning. After all_, he thought as he made his way through the thick underbrush, _you can never know what you will find._

End of chapter 9

Tbc…

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Hm, no cliffy this time...oh, oops, sorry, there is one. Well, I guess I just like to write them."eg" 

So, what do you think? Good? Bad? Anything in between? Please, if you are not too filled with Holiday Happiness, let me know what you think. You know, every review is like a gift, and I cherish them all. :o)


	11. 10 You can’t have everything, can you?

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, Summery, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter 10** "You can't have everything, can you?"

**A/N 1: **

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

Ada: Father, Dad (S)

Narbeleth: Autumn (S)

ionnath nin: My sons (S)

Rhîw: Winter (S)

Thenidair: Loyal Shadow (S)

**Beta:** _Chris. Thank you so much! Without your help, I think I would never post this story. :o)_

**A/N 2**_: Is it safe to come out? Any angry readers with pitchforks out there somewhere? No? Well...hello! I am truly sorry it took me so long to update, but my holidays were no holidays at all. I had so much to do, there was no time to write. But, now, I have time, so you get a chapter. I hope you like it, and I promise to be a good author and work more and post then asap again. As you are used to get the chapters weekly, I will try my hardest to post next week again._

_Happy Reading!_

* * *

_"Deep down inside, we know what we want, but most times we are afraid to ask for it. And we think we know, that even if we voice our desire, we will not get what we desire. But, what would happen, if this assumption is wrong? What, if we but had to voice our dreams, and see them fulfilled? Oh, no. I fear it is not that easy._

_I know, that I cannot have everything. And that my dreams are nothing but wishes, that will never see the light of day."_

* * *

Chapter 10: "You can't have everything, can you?"

The fog seemingly swallowed him as he crashed to the ground. The hairy and foul smelling body of the mountain goblin was pinning him to the cold stones, and Legolas desperately tried to get his trapped hands free. The beast screamed in pain and glee at the same time; Legolas's arrow was protruding from its right side, the yellow shaft sticking out from the black flesh. Hot blood was pouring from the wound, but the creature was strong and determined to kill the elf.

Cursing, Legolas managed to free his right arm and with a jerk, he punched the goblin's face, breaking its nose and making it howl in pain. When the beast drew back a ways, he drew up his knees and with a mighty push threw the creature from him. The goblin fell onto its back and Legolas, seizing his chance, leapt to his feet. Not having the time to draw his twin knives, he swung his bow and with a loud "crack" it came down on the goblin's head. The beast fell unconscious to the ground, unmoving.

Looking around him frantically, Legolas concentrated on any sounds, but the mountains were quiet and still. The fog swiveled around him, and he could see not further than a few yards. Slowly, he made his way to his horse, which was still neighing agitatedly. The brown steed was throwing its head from left to right, eyes wide and fearful.

When he had nearly reached its side, his keen elvish ears detected a swooshing sound. Instinctively, Legolas dropped to the ground, knees scraping over the sharp rocks. A second later a long arrow flew past him, missing him by a few inches. Cursing under his breath, Legolas stayed on all fours and hurriedly sought shelter behind some large rocks.

_An archer! I should have known that something like this would happen to me. But if this noisome goblin can shoot an arrow in this fog, then so can I!_

Reaching behind him and taking one of his finely craved arrows, he notched it onto his bow, crept nearer to the rock, and waited. For long moments the silence seemed to be everlasting. No sound came to his ears, and all he could sense was his own blood that rushed in his ears and the occasional nervous neighing of his horse.

Then, suddenly, another black arrow rushed past, ricocheting off the rock he was hiding behind and vanishing in the grayness behind him. Peering over the boulder, Legolas narrowed his eyes and tried to find the source of the arrow.

_Come now, show yourself. I know that you are there. Come, you want to shoot me, to kill me. Show yourself, I only need a few seconds…_

The fog was even now thickening, and even with his keen eyesight, Legolas was not able to make out the caves and fissures that lined the mountains' walls. They loomed high above him, and threw their nightshade over the path and the rocky slopes beyond. The sky was veiled by the fog, and the air seemed to become colder with the minutes.

And somewhere in that misty grayness sat one or more goblin archers, ready to shoot Legolas the moment he left his cover. What he would not do, of course. No, instead, he would wait for the moment the beast shot the next arrow, and then fire his own. All he needed now was for the goblin to show its ugly face.

For some more minutes Legolas waited, his fair hair becoming damp in the fog; his skin covered in fine water droplets. Keen blue eyes penetrated the wafting brume, hands holding the deadly arrow on the string. Nothing stirred in the mountains and Legolas began to wonder whether his foe had already given up on its prey.

Then, suddenly, a soft sound reached his ears. Stone grinding over stone, small pebbles that rolled down the mountainside.

_So you are still there, my hideous friend…_

Readjusting his grip on the arrow, Legolas shifted his position slightly. He had not been able to make out the number of his attackers, but he guessed that there were not many, otherwise they would have surely rushed him. After all, he was only one and could be easily overbought.

But, why was his enemy not trying to shoot him? The goblin was in the better fighting position. It had the advantage of better cover, and it could just try its luck and shoot arrow after arrow until it had what it wanted. If it ran out of ammunition, it could still attack him on foot and engage him in hand-to-hand combat. So, why was it not shooting? There was no sensible reason behind this tactic.

_Unless…_

Eyes widening, Legolas turned as fast as he could, turning in the direction behind him. More sensing than seeing the attack, he let his arrow fly and moved to the side. The hot touch of steel on his upper left arm told him that he had not been fast enough. Letting out a small surprised scream, he dropped his bow and reached for his twin knives.

_There are two! It has not shot because it did not want to risk its fellow! _

Smelling the foul stench of the goblin and hearing the high pitched scream as his arrow embedded itself in the creature's abdomen, Legolas rolled clear of his enemy. The fog was so thick that all he could see was the blurred silhouette of his attacker, and the yellow eyes that followed his every motion.

Breathing faster than usual, Legolas gripped the handles of his knives tighter, readying his fighting stance. If this beast wanted to kill him, then it would have to make the first move. He could not see clearly in this weather, and every step he took could send him tumbling down the mountainside. No, it was better to stay where he was and defend himself.

Legolas did not have to wait long. With a howling yell, the goblin attacked him, crude blade raised high over its head. It seemed that the beast was surefooted on the pebbles and sharp rocks, as the attack came swift and strong.

Ducking the first swing of the creature and straitly avoiding being beheaded, Legolas moved to the side and brought his own blades up. Steel clashed on steel and when their blades were forced apart again, a searing hot pain shot up his arm. Legolas could feel his own blood trickle down his arm and wet his tunic.

The mountain goblin seemed to smell his blood, because it swiveled around and attacked with newfound strength. When Legolas ducked under another blow, he came close enough to the beast to see his own arrow sticking out of its belly. Detachedly he asked himself how the beast was still able to fight.

Cursing under his breath as he was nearly cleaved in two by another mean swing, Legolas decided that it was time for him to do something.

_After all, I do not want to end as mountain goblin stew! Estel would have my hide!_

Parrying a thrust that was meant to gut him, Legolas used the force of his own momentum and moved towards his attacker. The goblin, not anticipating such a bold move, grunted in surprise, before it lifted its crude blade, ready to finally kill this troublesome elf.

But Legolas was faster. Being so close to the goblin that he could touch him, he dropped to his knees. Emitting a strange sound, the beast stood there for a moment, wondering where its prey had gone before it howled in rage and agony. Letting its scimitar clatter to the ground, it clawed at its back for a second, before it gurgled one last time and then fell to the rocks, dead.

Grinning, Legolas stood and looked down at the dead goblin. When he had kneeled before it, he had quickly grabbed the still protruding arrow and, using all the strength he could muster in that awkward position, had driven the arrow all the way through the body until it had exited at the back.

_Two down, one to go._

Casting a quick look at his horse and deciding that it was safe for the moment, Legolas bend down and took some small pebbles in his hand. Making his way over to the large rocks that he had used as shelter earlier, he crouched down and peered over the top. The fog was hindering his view, but after a few moments of intent staring, he thought to see a dark shadow moving through it. Not wanting to give his position away, he lifted his hand and threw the stones to his right.

The small pebbles hit rocks and stone, and they clattered and clinked as they toppled down the slopes of the mountain. Just as Legolas had hoped, the dark shadow stopped in its tracks, and then began to move in the direction of the sound.

Smiling slyly, Legolas sheathed his knives and took up his bow, which he had dropped earlier. Notching an arrow, he followed the shadow with his eyes.

_Now let's see who is better in setting up traps._

When the dark shadow reached the area where the stones had come down, it stopped and the fog seemed to draw around it. Taking a deep breath, Legolas aimed and then let his arrow fly. It cut through the dense murk and a few seconds later a painful scream told Legolas that his arrow had flown true.

He waited some more seconds before he finally rose to his feet. When he did not hear any more sounds, he made his way over to his steed, which was eyeing him nervously. Speaking soothing words to it in elvish, he patted its neck and scratched its forehead gently. Any normal horse would have bolted long ago, but elvish horses were linked to their riders via a strong bond. It was a thing which Legolas had always loved about elvish horses. They were loyal, good companions and more often than not, friends.

When his steed had calmed down, and he was reassured that it was not harmed, he took up its reins and slowly steered it down the fog hidden path. He wanted to leave this goblin infested area as soon and quickly as possible. Once he had reached the lower levels of the mountains, the fog would be thinner and he would be able to ride once more.

His wound was still bleeding slightly, but it did not pain him as much as it could, and Legolas was certain that it was not a deep wound. He would care for it and bind it as soon as he had left this dangerous area behind him.

The reins of his steed in his left hand and his bow and arrow in his right, he made his way down the path, wishing for some more light and less fog.

_Well, you can't have everything, can you?_

_--oOo--_

Morning had come frosty but sunny in Imladris; the birds sang and welcomed the new day, golden and red leaves fell from the ancient trees. The numerous waterfalls and streams glittered and glimmered in the ascending sun, sending reflections of silver and golden light over the waking flowers and the green grass.

Musical voices raised in song greeted the new morning, and the white houses of the elven haven seemed mystical and ancient; the beauty of the city was only surpassed by the glory of nature itself. Arnor smiled down merrily and warmed the earth, but the rays were thin and weak, and it took long hours till the last of the night's frost had melted and given way to the colors of autumn.

Elrond, not having slept during the night, walked slowly down the marble front steps of the Last Homely House. The sun had risen some hours ago, but it stood still low in the sky, as it did during this part of the year. Rhîw was approaching with long strides and even the sun was not able to reach the highest heavens in this season.

Aforetime, the elves used to celebrate the change of the seasons and great feasts were held, but with the passing of the elves into the West and the growing of the dark shadow in the East, they had given up that ritual. Now, so many years from the beginning of this world and only so few from the possible ending of all that made this world worthy to live in it, the elves had taken to only celebrate the change from autumn to winter and the birth of summer. The festivities for the Winter feast were still some weeks from now, but Elrond began to wonder whether it would be a day of celebration for him as well. Would his sons still be alive then and well? Would his life have changed, to better or worse? Numerous thoughts filled his every waking hour, and he was sure that they would even plague his dreams should he attempt to rest.

During the night he had debated whether his assumption had been correct, and his twins had indeed been poisoned. But the fact that elves did not get sick and that neither Elladan nor Elrohir had been injured, affirmed his suggestion. The other question on the forefront of his mind was, whether the twins' inane healing abilities had defeated the toxin before it had been able to defeat them.

In the morning, they had shown neither sign of sickness nor felt uneasy, and they had eaten with hunger. A thorough examination had shown Elrond that they did not suffer from dehydration or fever, and their eyes showed no sign of any illness. All signs told the healer that the alien ghost in their bodies had been defeated, but his heart told him otherwise.

A poison that was able to make an elf sick, and two so strong and healthy elves such as Elladan and Elrohir, must have been a potent poison, and Elrond feared that the health of his sons was more shine than truth.

But with a rejected sigh, the Lord of the Last Homely House shook his head slightly as he made his way to the stables. Whether the venom was defeated or not, he did not know and he would not know until his sons came back to tell him.

_If they come back at all…_

Taking a deep breath, Elrond determinedly pushed the last thought out of his mind. He would not think of such things; he would face that thought when the correct time came, not sooner. Worrying needlessly helped no one and only led to more fear and uncertainty, which could result in folly and foolhardy decisions.

Reaching the stables, he could smell the fresh hay and hear the nickering of the horses. Stopping in his steps, he stood a moment and listened to another sound; his sons were readying their horses and talking about their trip.

"Elladan, do you really think we should head that far north? Perhaps Estel has not even cleared the forest. It could well be that he is still in the woods, near the Misty Mountains."

Elrond heard the clear voice of his eldest answer with confidence, "Yes, we should head as far north as possible. Maybe Estel has cleared the woods, mayhap not. But as long as we do not know for sure, we should head diagonally to our previous route and try to meet with him at the edge of the forest. He should not have gone further north by now. We can make it to the Mountains in two days if we ride hard. What think you?"

The neighing of a horse could be heard, and then Elrohir answered, "Two days you say? I would say three, but if we ride through half of the nights, well, then we could make it in two days. We have ridden slowly on our way back home, two to three days seem plausible if we make haste."

"Do you think we should take an additional horse? A fresh and rested horse could be of help." Elladan's voice sounded unconvinced, and his brother confirmed his thoughts.

"No, it would slow us down and could be a burden. I say our horses are rested enough to carry us swiftly to the Mountains. They already feel our urgency."

And as if to verify the elf's words, nickering floated through the stables, followed by the stamping of hooves.

Smiling sadly, Elrond pushed away from the stable door he had been leaning against, and made his way over to his sons.

When they saw their father enter, they nodded and greeted him. There was no real need for words and therefore they wordlessly embraced their ada. After long moments, Elrond withdrew and gave his twins a long look.

He smiled at them and with a voice full of emotion, said, "Please, ionnath nin, be careful. These are dark times, and if my feeling does not deceive me, even darker times are coming. Ride swift, but safely. Find your brother and bring him home if need be, which I hope will not be necessary. Ride with my blessing, and may the Valar protect you and guide you home soon. I love you both."

Nodding and then embracing their father once more, the twins echoed simultaneously, "I love you too, ada." And then they mounted their horses and after a last smile at Elrond, they rode out of the stables. Hay and dust rose behind them, and after the horses and their riders vanished, leaving the elven Lord alone in the stables and the setting dust, stillness settled over the building. For the elven healer it seemed as if the quietness had settled over the whole world and his heart as well.

_Please bring my sons back to me, healthy and whole_, he prayed to all the Valar who were willing to listen. But deep inside, Elrond knew that some wishes stayed unfulfilled and that one could not have everything.

--oOo--

Stamping his feet and brushing some stray needles out of his white hair, Dagnir let his eyes travel over the mountain range. The huge stone formation that rose before him looked gray and cold; the peaks glistered white in the weak sunlight of the morning, and the lower slopes were covered in white mist.

_I hate these mountains. But this time they will help me get what I want._

With the coming of the morning, the men had broken camp and had set out to the north. They had left no sign of their passing, and the former captain was sure that not even the elves of Rivendell would be able to find their tracks. Nevertheless, he had made his men walk in circles and cover the tracks again and again. He wanted to be sure that he met the ranger alone and vulnerable.

The sun rose weakly over the mountain peaks and sent its sunny rays over the slopes and rocks, reflecting here and there and giving the gray stone the sense of age and majesty. The lower slopes that were still fairly green seemed to glow in the last colors of autumn; trees still full of leaves craned their branches to catch the life giving tendrils of warmth, mayhap the last before winter.

A cold wind blew from the east, and the white crystals of frost on the grass and the last Narbeleth flowers showed that the dark season was not far away. The air smelled of ice and snow, although it was unlike to snow in this area at this time of the year. The first snowfalls were still some weeks away, but if winter came as swiftly as it had done in the last days, these lands would see the white snow soon.

Gripping the reins of his horse tighter and ducking under a low hanging branch, Dagnir led his horse onwards. When they had reached the vast outcroppings of the mountains, they had dismounted and decided to instead lead the animals. The road was treacherous and the rocks sharp; they would not risk the horses.

With the Misty Mountains to the right and the last of the forest to the left, the Gondorian captain felt a surge of anticipation wash over him. His plan was set into motion, the ranger had been poisoned, the poison worked as planned. His men, filth as they might be in his eyes, obeyed his command, and to his very pleasure, they seemed to fear him. Or at least, Podlim did. Hador was too blinded by his lust for fresh blood to not obey him. But Morgwath, he was still an enigma to the captain.

Dagnir knew why the hunter and the poacher were following him, he had saved their lives and they owed him. But Morgwath…

_I wonder what he desires. I doubt that he desires riches, or women. No, he wants something else. If it were not for his skill with sword and bow, I would not have taken him in._

And it was true. In the beginning, the Gondorian had not even wanted to add the murderer to his group. But fate had played a trick on him, and so the tall and silent man had found a place in his troop.

When the white haired captain had paid a visit to Tharbad to recruit Hador, he had met Morgwath in a tavern. Or rather, Morgwath had met him. The night had been as cold as this morning and the tempers were frayed The harvest had been poor and the farmers and merchants feared a hard winter. They had searched for a scapegoat, and who was better to blame than a strange looking alien person from who knew where? Have a bit of fun with a stranger and vent some pent up anger?

In a matter of minutes, Dagnir had found himself the target of the inns inhabitants angry words and then, fists. Morgwath had approached him, offering to protect him, for some gold, of course. Accepting the offer, the tall man had indeed fulfilled his task and protected the former captain. He had not even received a scratch and had left Tharbad the same night unhindered.

Deep inside, Dagnir was still angered that he had been forced to rely on someone else to protect him. He was a former Gondorian captain, a man who was perfectly able to take care of himself. But the men in the pub had clearly outnumbered him, and in hindsight, the choice to accept the offer of the stranger might have saved his life.

He had traveled with the tight-lipped murderer till Bree, and then he had finally come to the decision that he could prove a worthy addition for his group. Morgwath had listened to his plans and had accepted without hesitation. Since then, the man had not spoken more than three sentences.

_I will be damned if this bastard turns on me in the end. Oh no, this is my operation, and no one will take my victory from me. Whatever Morgwath truly desires, as long as he does not disturb my plans, he can marry an orc, I do not care in the slightest._

Grinning at the thought, Dagnir cast a look over his shoulder at his dark clothed companion. Morgwath was walking beside his horse, quiet as ever. When their eyes met, a shiver wanted to crawl down his back, but Dagnir suppressed it and turned his gaze back to the path before him.

In a few hours they would reach the site where Podlim had set up the trap, and a feeling of excitement began to fill Dagnir's being.

_Oh, this will be so much better than anything that I have ever done!_

Dagnir had no doubt about the trap; he was certain that the poacher had done exactly as he had asked. Soon, the ranger would find himself in a situation from which there was no escape. Then he would be in Dagnir's hands, helpless, defeated, hopeless, in pain…and all alone.

Smirking evilly, Dagnir pulled at the reins of his horse, urging the beast onwards. Not even the silent and irritable silence of Morgwath could diminish his joy in this moment of anticipation.

--oOo--

For a long hour he had searched the woods surrounding his campsite, but his search had been in vain. The forest near the Misty Mountains was not as dense as it was nearer to Imladris, and the trees did not provide the needed shadow for most of the healing herbs to grow.

With only some weak herbs against pain, some rose hip and some wild berries in his hands, Estel had returned to his camp. The search had tired him more than he had thought possible; his feet hurt with every step and his head had started pounding in the rhythm of his heartbeat. But one thing in his situation had turned for the better. He did not feel the stiffness in his limbs any longer, and the coldness in his body had made place for a comfortable warmth.

_Well, it is something. At least I do not feel like a frozen human-icicle anymore._

Grinning slightly at his own thought, Estel slowly eased himself to the ground and rekindled the small fire that he had build earlier. The flames licked at the dry wood eagerly, devouring the tiny branches and dry leaves. After watching the fire for a long moment, Estel sighed deeply.

The morning was nearly gone due to his search, and if he wanted to make any progress this day, he would have to get going soon. But, he did not feel like leaving right away, and therefore he decided to brew some tea. It would warm him further, nourish his body, and hopefully defeat the annoying headache.

Soon, the little campsite was filled with the sweet fragrances of the tea; it ranged between honey, rose and sunflowers, but Estel knew that the sweet smell was only a mean disguise for a very grisly taste.

Taking a deep breath, he eyed the steaming cup in his hand a second longer than absolutely necessary, before he gulped it down in two big swallows. Shaking his head as if this would help to get rid of the taste, Estel wondered for a moment about his own sanity.

_Here I sit, in the middle of nowhere, and I "voluntarily" drink of the tea Ada is so fond of. I guess what Legolas has told me time and again is true: I am crazy._

Shrugging, Estel got to his feet, put out the small fire with his booted foot, and slowly took up his pack from the ground. Soon the sun would have reached its highest position, and in this season the days were remarkably shorter than in summer. With every hour he tarried, he would lose one more hour of daylight.

Therefore, he hoisted his pack onto his horse's back, and after a long look back at the campsite to make sure that he had left no sign of his passing despite the fireside which he was not able to hide, he swung up onto the steed.

"Come, boy, let us be on our way."

And so, without looking back, Estel rode north towards his destination: the ranger camp near the Ettenmoors.

He rode for several hours at a steady pace, feeling the powerful strides of his horse under him and seeing the forest change around him. The trees, where they had been high and still full of shining autumn leaves, were now smaller and almost leafless. The underbrush was thin, and the grass under his horse's hooves looked weak and almost gray.

_The power of the elves does not reach this far. Soon I will have left the safety of the Firstborn._

It was a thought that made him feel somewhat lonely. Although he had parted with his brothers and Legolas only some days ago, the waking hours had seemed bleaker and quieter without them, the food not as delicious and the stars not as bright.

_Well, except the last two days, of course. They have been quite entertaining._

Giving his horse more freedom to move through the trees, Estel took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the fresh air. His headache had disappeared, and he was glad that the annoying orc with his blunt axe had finally left him.

The sun that shone weak from the sky had already traveled far, and Estel knew that he would have to find a place to rest soon, if he did not want to be surprised in the open by the darkness of the night.

Tightening his cloak around his shoulder as a gust of cold wind swept past him, he scanned his surroundings. To his left lay the forest with thin underbrush and trees with low hanging branches. They would give him shelter, but the thought of sleeping under leafless trees and near thorny bushes did not really appeal to Estel.

To his right lay the high mountains, the snow covered peaks towering far above him. The stone looked cold and unyielding, and here and there boulders of every size had tumbled down from the mountain. To Estel it looked as if an angry giant had tossed them down, while trying to smash some annoying individual.

_Maybe no giant, but a troll…_

Gazing once more into the forest to his left, Estel gently steered his horse to the right. He did not really like the Misty Mountains, but right now he preferred the hard and secure stone that would shield him from wind and rain.

_I will have to make sure to never tell Legolas. He will lecture me endlessly over the beauty of the trees, their song and the pleasure they give him. I am not even allowed to **mention** the word "stone" to him. And he **lives** in a** cave**…_

Smiling at the thought, Estel rode nearer to the mountains, his eyes searching for a suitable place to rest for the night.

--oOo--

_Finally…finally you have come. Come little fly, the very hungry spider is awaiting you!_

Dagnir sat crouched behind some thick bushes, ignoring the long thorns that scraped his skin and tore at his tunic. Neither did he feel the sharp stones he kneeled on, or the cold wind that sneaked under his cloak and tunic. All his attention was focused on one thing: Estel.

In the afternoon, Dagnir and Morgwath had been joined by Podlim and Hador, and together the four had traveled north. As the former captain had predicted, after only a few hours they had reached the site of the trap.

The Misty Mountains rose up high in front of them, the outcroppings reaching down deep into the land until they nearly met with the forest. The mountains slopes seemed to embrace a small clearing, small enough to only house a few trees and some berry bushes. It was a perfect place to rest for the night, as the rocks would keep out the wind and the high barrier of stone would hold animals at bay. It was an easy defendable spot.

_Perfect._

After reaching the place nearly an hour ago, Dagnir had made his men move to their positions. He wanted that everything was ready when his enemy finally arrived. After that, he had tightened his cloak around his shoulders, had taken out his hunting knife, crouched down behind the thickest bush he had been able to find…and waited.

And now, shortly before sunset, his waiting ended. Narrowing his eyes and licking his lips, Dagnir watched the ranger ride not far from him. The horse seemed tired, as did the ranger, but Dagnir could see that neither horse nor rider would stop if they did not find the correct place to rest.

_Just a little further, my precious, just a tiny bit further…_

Feeling his heartbeat fast in his chest, Dagnir's eyes never left the ranger. And truly, the man did as the captain had hoped he would. He rode onwards, straight to the mountain outcroppings and the small clearing.

Then, he stopped, gazing at the site; his eyes swept over the rocks, the grass, the trees, the bushes.

_Come on, you bloody little son of an orc! Go! Be a good boy and DO WHAT I WANT!_

The anger that Dagnir had felt all the time that he had pent up inside of him seemed only too willing to break free. In this very moment he wanted nothing more than to rush up to the ranger and strangle the life out of him until all that was left was the lifeless and bloody hull of a man who had once been his enemy.

With red gleaming eyes, Dagnir gripped the hilt of his knife so tight that his knuckles shone white through his skin. His lips trembled and his breathing hitched, and he felt that he was ready to kill the ranger there and then.

_To Mandos with my plans! If this damn ranger does not enter the clearing **now**, I will kill him. Here, now, and with my bare hands if I have to!_

As if to underline his words, he shifted his position and slowly rose into a half kneeling-half standing position. The thorns of the bush tore at his clothing, and a stray branch scraped along his cheek, leaving a bloody scratch in its wake. But Dagnir did not notice it, as his eyes and focus were still turned on the ranger before him.

But then, suddenly, the horse flicked its ears, agitatedly pawing at the ground. The ranger bent over the neck of his horse, so as if to whisper to it. The next moment, the horse seemed to calm down and both made their way into the rock embraced clearing and therewith out of sight.

Dagnir did not know if he should feel happy or utterly sad. Releasing the breath he had been holding, the former captain sank to his knees again. Slowly, very slowly, a smile spread over his face.

_Thank you, my dear ranger. So now we will have the chance to have a little fun. Or rather, I will have the fun while you die. Maybe not now, not today, but well…one can't have everything, can one?_

--oOo--

With the last light of the sun, Estel rode into the green clearing. The peaks of the Misty Mountains were painted in a blood red, the white slopes high up in the mountains shining red, the light reflecting of the snow and sending glittering and twinkling lights down onto the earth far below.

Estel was glad that his decision to turn to the mountains instead of the forest had been the right one; the clearing he had found was embraced on three sides by rocks, and he was sure that they would shelter him from wind and wolf.

The entrance to his shelter was small enough to only let three horses ride side by side, and should someone try to sneak up on him during the night, the loose stones and pebbles that littered the entrance would wake him soon enough.

Rolling his head and his neck too loosen stiff muscles, he dismounted, after making sure that Thenidair had everything he needed, Estel kindled a small fire and settled down for the night.

Slowly, the light color of the sky gave way for a deeper blue. The horizon, so far in the distance, was still bright, here and there with specks of red and orange, but the sky right above him was already dark. After some time, the first stars appeared, twinkling in the now clear sky and whispering of journeys others had made, of adventures long past and of things to come.

Sipping his hot tea, this time none of his father's creations, but a simple tea of some of the herbs he had found earlier that day, Estel leaned back against a boulder, gazing at the sky.

_They are wonderful. _

When he was still a child, his brothers had told him many stories of elves and men who had traveled Arda, they had spoken of fights and wars, of battles and skirmishes. Of victories and defeats, of honor and disgrace, or strength and weakness, friendship and hate. Life and death.

And Estel had imagined all those events of long ago and had wondered whether the stars had seen all that.

_The stars must have many stories to tell. Will they tell of my adventures some day?_

Taking another sip of his tea and shifting under his cloak and blanket, Estel was well aware of how childish his thoughts were, but they comforted him nevertheless. He was no child anymore, but that did not mean that his heart had not reserved a place for his old innocence.

_I ask myself…this old tale. Elladan and Elrohir have told me so often about it. But…I can't remember. Well, I have to ask them once we meet again._

When he looked up at the stars, glimmering and glittering in the dark sky, Estel remembered some words of a story that his brothers had told him as a child. He had been sick with a cold and been forced to stay in bed. His brothers had told him many stories to make him feel better, but this special one had stuck with him. He had still been learning the history of the stars, and therefore the twins had thought that this tale suited perfectly. Strange that he had never asked them to tell him the story again after his sickness.

Still staring at the wonderful stars that gave him so much peace and comfort, he repeated some of the words of the tale in his mind.

_Two lovers, born into a dark and cold world. A world of hatred and fear. Two fates that would become one, a love, that would last into eternity… until the world would be undone. _

Estel could not remember the rest of the story, but he still knew the last lines of the tale.

_And although they never found their love in life, they were not parted in death. It was their fate to shine from the heavens for all eternity. Together as one, but never able to touch. _

Shaking his head, Estel took a breath. He would ask his brothers to tell him the tale again. Nevertheless, it was strange that this old story resurfaced now, and he wondered what had triggered the memory.

_Perhaps I am only tired._

Finishing his tea, he put another thick branch onto the fire, settled down onto his bedroll and tightened his cloak and blanket around him. The stars smiled down on him, their light shining through the night and giving the lands a silver glow.

Just as he closed his tired eyes and felt himself drift off into the realm of sleep, a thought hit him.

_I have not eaten tonight._

But he was so tired that not even this thought could make him open his eyes once more.

_I will eat tomorrow. Some dry fruit and…lembas. Well, I guess one can't have everything, can one?_

And with this thought, he let himself enter the realm of dreams, where he wandered during the night, undisturbed by bad dreams.

End of chapter 10

Tbc…


	12. 11 Caught by the enemy

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, SummerySummary, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter 11** "Caught by the enemy"

**A/N 1: **

_Characters (OCs):_

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

_Elvish terms:_

Iston: I know (S)

Lasto beth nin, mellon nin: Listen to me, my friend (S)

Muindor: Brother by blood (S)

Noro lim:

Saes: Please (S)

Thenidair: Loyal Shadow (S)

_Italics_ are thoughts

**A/N 2:** Many thanks to Chris and her wonderful beta work!

* * *

"_The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."_

_(Joseph Conrad)_

* * *

Chapter 11: Caught by the enemy

When the sun set in the West, casting the forest in a red glow, Elladan and Elrohir did nothing to slow the pace of their horses. Heavy hooves pounded on the ground, dust and earth flew everywhere. Leaves were trampled, branches snapped, rivers crossed.

For hours the twins rode, never stopping for rest, never looking back. They knew how far they could ride their horses, and they knew their own limits. Worry had gripped their hearts, and it made them ride ceaselessly.

When the sun vanished behind the horizon and darkness covered the lands, Elrohir gazed at his brother. Elladan's face was grim, his eyes directed at the way before him. The brown horse he was riding was sweating, and white foam shimmered on its coat.

Sensing his brother's eyes on him, Elladan turned and locked eyes with his brother. He said nothing, but it was not necessary. Elrohir felt the same as he did, and they both knew that a shadow had crept over the lands, darker and more dangerous than anything that they had encountered before.

Nodding, Elrohir re-directed his gaze at the way. They would not stop yet. They would ride for some more hours, until their horses could truly go no further. Then, and only then, would they take a short rest.

Whispering to his own horse words of comfort and encouragement, Elrohir bent low over its huge head. A cold wind had started to blow, and he wanted to offer as little a target as possible.

So they rode on, the drumming of the hooves and the snorting of the steeds the only sound that spoke of their passing. Darkness descended, and soon the trees around them were nothing more than black shadows, the sky a deep black with only some tiny stars twinkling down.

The moon was not full yet, and its weak light was mostly absorbed by the high treetops, and its silver light was not powerful enough to reach the ground and light the twins' path.

But the elves did know their way, and even had they not known, the darkness would not have stopped them. They feared for their little brother and friend. Although they had decided to search for Estel and not for Legolas, they were concerned about the prince's well being as well.

The messenger bird that their father had send, would need at least a week to reach the palace, and then any rescue troops would need one and a half week to reach the Last Homely House. But the twins knew that they could do nothing about that fact. And after all, if Legolas was poisoned, he had a chance of making it back to Imladris or his home. But Estel was only human, and if the venom had claimed his body as well, he would have a harder time to overcome the symptoms, and reach help.

No, the decision to search for their little brother had been the right one. They felt it, they knew it.

The moon rose high into the sky, and more and more stars appeared in the heavens, twinkling merrily down on the earth. The wind picked up, and soon leaves and tiny branches flew through the air, branches swayed and dry needles rained down on the riders.

But the twins did not care, if they even noticed.

When the moon had sailed past its highest point and was already beginning to sink to the horizon, Elladan finally slowed his horse, and then stopped. They had reached a tree-surrounded glade.

Stopping beside his brother's horse, Elrohir breathed deeply. The air was rich with the smell of night flowers and damp earth, and for a moment he wondered if he had ever been in this place before. But he dismissed the thought as soon as it had come. It did not matter.

Dismounting, the brothers relieved their horses of the packs and guided them to a little stream that flowed at the edge of the glade. The animals drank eagerly, filling their starved throats with the cool liquid. When they were done, the twins bade them to stay close and rest, and the steeds trotted away into the surrounding forest.

Sighing, Elladan let himself flop down on the grass, and his fingers began to play with the long thin grass stems. Although it had been an exhausting day, he felt no tiredness, but only a hollow feeling in his stomach that urged him to go on. To mount his horse and flee through the night, to find Estel and help him. But he knew that he could not do that. The horses needed their rest, and he knew that he would need some minutes of rest as well.

Sighing again, he heard his brother sit down next to him. Elrohir opened his water flask, and after taking a few sips, handed it over to his brother. Taking it gratefully, Elladan drank as well, and then closed it to lay it aside.

When Elrohir handed him some dried fruit, he looked up towards his brother. The look on Elrohir's face seemed to match his own, determined. Nodding his thanks, he took the fruit, but he did not eat them. He was not hungry. The fear and worry for his human brother had made his stomach flip more often than he could count, and he felt no desire to eat.

Elrohir seemed to sense his brother's mood, "Elladan, please. You will not help Estel if you starve yourself."

"Iston."

"Then eat, muindor."

Shoving some more food into his brother's hands, Elrohir laid his hand on Elladan's shoulder briefly.

"We will find him and bring him back. You will see, all will be well in the end."

Thankful for the comfort his brother was giving him, Elladan nodded. But he could not help the feeling that Elrohir was trying to convince his brother as much as himself. Nevertheless, Elladan began to eat, and satisfied with his brother, Elrohir began to eat as well.

As soon as the horses had rested, they would head out into the night again, and if luck was on their side, with the coming of the second dawn, they would find their brother.

--oOo--

Legolas had walked for hours, steadily following the stony path that would lead him out of the mountains. The bleeding on his arm had stopped long ago, and as the gash did not hurt him as much as it could, he had decided not to stop, but walk through the day until night had fallen.

With the darkness of the night, he had stopped near a small overhang. Even for an elf with keen eyesight, it was too dangerous to move through the Misty Mountains at night. There were sharp rocks, steep slopes and gaping chasms in the mountains, and if he was not careful, he would find his early end at the bottom of a black pit.

After seeing to his horse and again making sure that it was not hurt, Legolas sat down on the cold stones. The fog that had covered the mountains had vanished during the day, and the sky was clear and cloud free. It was dotted with tiny twinkling stars, and here and there he thought that he saw a star shower. But more likely than not, that was only his imagination.

Sighing, Legolas began the unnerving task of cleaning and bandaging the cut on his arm. It was not deep, and within a few minutes he had washed the wound. Crushing some of the herbs from his medicinal kit in his hands and wetting them with a bit of water from his flask, he smeared the paste on the wound, before he bandaged it tightly.

Tightening his cloak around his shoulders and leaning against the rock wall in his back, he gazed out over the shadowy mountains. The world looked so peaceful, so innocent. But he knew better. Only some hours ago a few goblins had tried to kill and eat him. That was not something he would forget anytime soon.

_And somewhere, either the twins or Estel are in danger. If I only knew. Not knowing is worse than knowing!_

Sighing again, he reached inside his pack and took out some fruit and lembas. Together with his water, it would have to be enough for tonight, as he did not dare to light a fire. The warmth would be welcome, but the light would attract more beasts, and he had no intention to play a waiting target.

When morning came, he would set out once more, following the path, and once down the mountains, he would see what to do. Either head north, or to Imladris. Perhaps the answer to this question would present itself once he had reached even ground.

Letting his eyes glaze over in elven sleep as soon as he had finished his meal, Legolas let himself slip into the dream world. He knew that his horse would keep watch over him, as it usually did. And so, he slept, undisturbed and dreamless.

Morning dawned cold and misty in the mountains, and as Legolas guided his horse down the steeper parts of the way, he once more felt his cloak and clothing dampen.

_I hate mist! The next time I travel from Imladris to Mirkwood, I will go through the Gap of Rohan! It might be longer, yes, but at least it is not a misty road!_

Grumbling under his breath and at the same time keeping his senses open for any kind of danger, he made his way down the Misty Mountains. After having traveled for two days since his decision to turn around, he neared the softer slopes, and soon he would be able to ride once more. And then, it would only take him one more day to reach the ground and the forest on the borders of Imladris.

The sun rose in the sky, and the icy temperatures that had greeted the day, gradually increased. Legolas, as an elf, did not feel the coldness, but he was thankful that the dew that covered the stones was slowly vanishing in the sunny rays. It made his path more secure, and he could quicken his steps.

In the early afternoon, he mounted his horse, and with a whispered, "Lasto beth nin, mellon nin. We need to go down quickly, I am afraid. But I promise you, once down, I will reward you with a huge piece of sugar," He was on his way.

Neighing and throwing its huge head up and down, the horse set out down the mountain. Patting its neck and smiling, Legolas let the reins slacken. The steed would find the safest and quickest way down, and it would not do if Legolas tried to steer it. The animal was surefooted and had crossed the mountains more than once; it knew where to tread and which way to go.

Leaning back a bit in the saddle, he gazed at the surrounding rocks and boulders. The hollow feeling in his stomach had not vanished, and the closer he came to Imladris, the stronger it got. He knew that something dreadful had happened, although he did not know when and to whom precisely. It did not matter. He knew that his help was needed. Desperately.

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear, he gazed at the blue sky above him.

_Please, do not let me come too late. Please._

--oOo--

A twittering bird was the first sound that reached his tired mind. Shifting under his blanket and trying to ignore the sunny rays that shone through his eyelids, Estel turned onto his other side.

Morning had come too soon for his liking. He had slept peacefully and deeply the last night, but after two days of pain and coldness and a day of riding, his body had not yet fully recovered. It demanded its rest, and no matter how much Estel willed his tired body to get up and move, a part of his mind soothed him back to sleep.

As a ranger, he was used to reach the state of full alertness in a second, but he felt safe in this little rock surrounded clearing. The walls were thick and high; it held out the wind and most of the rain, and the grass was soft and gentle under his body.

Truly, this place was a little haven near the Misty Mountains. The only thing that was annoying, was the bird that sat on the twig of one of the bushes, twittering merrily. It seemed the tiny animal had taken it upon itself to wake the whole of Arda to this cold, but sunny morning.

_I'll kill it! _

Groaning and turning onto his back, Estel slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed into them, and he closed them quickly.

_Too early._

Taking a deep breath, he lay for a moment longer, snuggled into his warm blanket, and enjoyed the warm rays onto his face. It truly was a fine day and an even more glorious morning. Had it not been for the bird, of course.

Sighing as the animal's chirping reached a new level, Estel finally opened his eyes again, and sat up slowly. The grass around him was white with frost where the shadow of the mountains darkened the earth, but the sunny places were green and wet.

Reaching for his pack and giving the still twittering bird an angry glare, he changed into a clean tunic, and then made his way over to his horse. Thenidair was grazing near the northern edge of the clearing, tail swishing from right to left. Lifting its head and flicking the pointy ears as it heard its master approach, it neighed happily.

Reaching Thenidair's side, Estel patted him on the neck, and then moved his hand to scratch its forehead.

"Good morning, my friend. Are you rested? We need to cover many leagues today, mellon."

Thenidair nickered once more, and then eagerly nuzzled Estel's chest. The horse knew exactly were the man stored the horse's treats: some carrots and apples.

Laughing, Estel reached inside his tunic and fed some of the sugar pieces to the horse. Patting the neck one last time, he turned and headed back to his pack. Eying the leaving man, Thenidair gave a short snort, and then continued munching on the lush grass that grew in the clearing.

Flopping down on his blanket, Estel searched his pack for some of the herbs that he had found the day before, and soon a tea was brewing over the fire. Despite the warmth of the morning sun and the sheltering blanket that he had used during the night, he shivered a little. Whether due to the cold of the night, lack of sleep or the last remnants of the illness, he did not know.

Sipping the finished tea, a low rumble suddenly floated to his ears, and he looked down surprised.

_Oops._

Grinning sheepishly, Estel patted his stomach. Now, as his stomach grumbled and demanded food, he remembered that he had not eaten the night before, and so he reached for his pack again, to get something to eat.

The lembas did not look very inviting to him, and therefore he ate some of the dried fruit he still had. They tasted a little old, but he did not mind it. Fruits were better than lembas in any case.

After finishing his meal and drinking up his tea, he packed away his things, put out the fire, and then called for his horse. Snorting, it trotted over the grass to him, and then nuzzled his shoulder gently.

Scratching Thenidair's nose, Estel said gently, "Aye, we will be on our way in a few minutes, mellon nin."

Lifting his bed roll and pack onto his horse's back and securing them, Estel let his gaze travel over the secluded clearing on last time. He had left no signs of his stay except for the remnants of the fire, and even they would be gone with the next rain shower.

Satisfied, he climbed onto Thenidair's back, and turned into the direction of the small entrance.

_Time to leave._

--oOo--

For Dagnir, the night had been too long. The hours seemed to have crawled past, and more than once he had found himself standing to his feet, eager to just kill the ranger and get it over with.

But no, every time he had set down again, had played with his knife, and waited. Waited and waited and waited until he was sick of waiting. And then, the horizon had glowed red and pink; morning had finally come. And with the morning, came Dagnir's time to act.

Oh, he had no doubt that his men were still hiding; exactly in the places he had commanded them to be. They would do as he had asked, and when he gave the signal, they would not hesitate. Stationed at strategic places on and around the rock walls that surrounded the clearing, they had sat out the frosty night and waited. As had he.

But now, time had come to move, to do what he had set out to do. The fly had come to the spider. Time to catch her in the net.

Smirking, Dagnir rose out of his kneeling position behind some bushes. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over to the left. Ducking under low hanging branches, slipping on wet leaves and splashing through the nightly dew covered grass, he nearly run to a huge oak tree.

Dagnir did no longer care if he was noisy or not. His time had come, and he would be damned if his prey escaped him.

Upon reaching the tree, he swiftly climbed into the higher branches, ignoring the bark that scraped along his palms, and the blood that flowed from little scratches in his skin. He had to hurry; soon, the ranger would have left the confines of the clearing, and then it would be too late.

_Move, Dagnir, move! Come on, faster!_

Climbing as fast as he could, he soon reached the branch he had wanted to reach, and sat down heavily on the thick wood. Grabbing the bow from his back and notching an arrow, he leaned forwards on the branch.

Opening a small gap in the sea of orange colored leaves before him and sending a shower of them to the ground, Dagnir gazed out to the clearing. The sun climbed up behind the mountains, slowly sneaking over the rocks, and sending their glory rays over the peaks. The snowy peaks glistered in the distance, and it reflected from a lake that lay high in the mountains.

But Dagnir paid no attention to the harmony of nature. His red glimmering eyes stared at the entrance of the clearing. It was empty still, but Dagnir knew that only too soon, a horse would appear in the gap. A horse, and a rider.

_Come, come, little fly. The hungry spider is waiting. I will catch you. I will hurt you. And then I will kill you!_

His hand shook slightly in anticipation, and another shower of leaves sailed to the already leave covered ground. A gust of wind rushed through the tree, and he felt the coldness of it on his face. Despite the sun, the air was fresh and frosty. Winter was approaching.

Then, suddenly, Dagnir narrowed his eyes. Had there been a shadow? There, behind the entrance? Was, finally, his prey coming?

Licking his lips and shifting on his branch, Dagnir gripped the bow tighter in his hand.

_Wait, wait!_

Breathing quicker, he stared out to the small clearing. At first, he saw nothing, but then, the sun came completely over the mountains, and the rays reflected on something silvery. It blinked and shone, and Dagnir knew that it was time.

He lifted his bow, pulled the string tight, and let his arrow fly high into the air. It whizzed and swooshed, but not like a normal arrow. While it sailed through the air, it emitted loud sounds, almost like singing. And it was loud enough for all of Dagnir's men to hear.

The arrow flew through the air, and then hit the ground many yards away. Stillness settled once more over the area. Nothing stirred, no sound reached his ears. Dagnir caught his breath. Had his men not heard his signal?

_You bloody, stupid bastards! Come on, move you idiots. MOVE!_

His eyes flicked here and there, from left to right, and his heart jumped in his chest.

_You foolish, little sons of trolls…_

But then, suddenly, his stomach flipped. Had that been…? Yes.

_Yes, yes, yes, yes! Come on, quicker!_

A rumbling filled the air. Then, a loud crack could be heard, and suddenly, a deafening crash came from the clearing.

And Dagnir's lips parted in an evil smile.

_Yes._

--oOo--

Estel rode to the entrance at a leisurlyleisurely walk. He did not truly wish to leave this clearing, and his body told him in clear terms that it was still tired. But he knew that he needed to get going. He had already lost two days due to this strange flu, and he wanted to reach the ranger camp as soon as possible.

_Still, it is so peaceful here. Perhaps I can come back with Dan, Ro and Legolas one day. We could hunt in the forest, and then spend the night here. This place is perfect as a hunting camp. Well, but I have to kill this annoying bird first._

Breathing in the fresh air deeply into his lungs to truly wake him up, he patted Thenidair on the neck. The horse seemed eager to be on their way again. It constantly swished its tail from one side to the other, and it had begun to twist its huge head nervously.

The sun reflected on Estel's sword and saddle, and for a short moment he had to close his eyes from the blinding light. Thenidair shivered under him, and then nickered highly.

"Sh, mellon. It's all right."

They rode on, and from one moment to the other, Estel felt the warm rays of the sun on his back. Closing his eyes for a second and sighing contently, he moved his neck and shoulders to loosen stiff muscles.

Suddenly, a loud whizzing and screeching filled the still air, and his eyes snapped open.

_What was that?_

His hand moved automatically to the hilt of his sword, and he gripped the reins tighter. Scanning the area before him, his eyes saw nothing. Stillness settled once more over the area. Frowning, he urged his horse on faster. Something was not right.

He felt uneasiness settle in his stomach, and his breathing quickened slightly. And then, he noticed the stillness. Not the quietness of morning, or the stillness of night, but rather…the calm before the storm.

_Even the bird has stopped singing…_

And then, his eyes caught some movement. Directly before him, on the other side of the entrance, stood a huge oak. Orange colored leaves sailed lazily to the ground.

_Too many leaves. There is…someone sits in the tree!_

Pressing his knees to his horse's side, he whispered, "Noro lim!"

Thenidair raced away, he needed no second command. As an elvish horse, he felt the urge of his master, and with a loud neighing, he pressed his hooves to the ground and sped to the entrance that yawned before them.

Grass flew in their wake, and they neared the hole in the rock walls. The stones came nearer and nearer with every moment. Only a short distance divided Estel and Thenidair from the other side of the clearing. Only a few more moments…

Suddenly, a rumbling filled the air, the earth seemed to shook and groan, shiver and tremble. Small pebbles tumbled to the ground before them, the rock walls cracked and growled as if a giant had hit them.

Estel snapped his head upwards. What he saw stole his breath away. The sky seemed to darken, the air vibrated and then, an earsplitting crash deafened him. A shock raced through his body, his hands loosened on the rein and within a split second he knew…that he would not make it.

_Oh, Valar._

Just as he had reached the gap in the walls of stone, huge clumps of rock tumbled down from above. They crashed against the walls, shook the formation and crashed to the ground. A whole rockslide came falling down on Estel and his horse.

"Thenidair, noro lim! Saes!"

Frantically, Estel tried to urge his loyal steed forwards. Perhaps there was a chance, perhaps…. Whinnying frightened, the horse threw its head to the side, but instead of heeding its master's command and plea, it stemmed its hooves into the shaking ground, unwilling to move further.

A panicked scream flew from Estel's lips, "No, go! Go! Saes, saes!"

But the horse was scared and confused, it feared the noise. It felt the earth shake, it smelled the danger and heard the tumbling and crashing of countless rocks. It tossed and twisted and danced on the spot, but it would not move.

Estel tucked at the reins frantically, and then lifted his head upwards. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly sent a prayer to the Valar.

The sky was gone, rocks filled his vision. Grey stone was everywhere. The first huge rock crashed to the ground before them, higher than a man and wider than a troll. More stones fell around him, making the earth tremble. The walls groaned, and then, suddenly, a rock hit Estel's right shoulder, and he felt himself slump forwards.

Another clump of stone hit his back hard, and he felt the air leave his lungs. Thenidair screamed under him and reared. Gripping the reins and holding to the horse tightly, Estel tried to stay in the saddle.

The next thing he saw was a sharp rock slamming into his horse's side. Blood gushed from a deep gash, and Thenidair screamed in pain and fear. More and more rocks hit the earth around them, and with the bigger ones came smaller pebbles, and the ground became slippery with gravel.

Another stone rolled down towards them, and Estel felt it crash into Thenidair's front leg. A shiver ran through the horse's body, and then, almost slowly, the proud horse slid to the side, and then fell heavily to the ground.

Estel gasped, and frantically shifted to jump from Thenidair's back. But he was not fast enough, and when a rock hit his side the moment the horse fell, he screamed in pain and fear.

Together they crashed to the hard earth, and Estel felt his horse land on top of him, effectively pinning him to the ground. A searing pain shot through his right knee, and he gasped in shock. Caught under his squirming and frightfully neighing steed, he lifted his head and gazed back up the stone wall.

All he could see was tumbling and flying rocks and debris, and then, suddenly, he caught sight of a thick boulder that came rolling directly into his direction. He held his breath, felt his body tremble and his eyes widened.

Then, the boulder came down, a sharp pain filled his chest, his head erupted in sheer agony,… and blissful darkness carried him away.

--oOo--

After only a few hours of rest, Elladan and Elrohir had set out once again, the horses feeling the tension of their riders. The steeds raced over the ground, their hooves sending showers of earth and leaves into the air.

Low hanging branches scratched at the twins' faces, the wind blew at them and let their hair fly behind them like a banner in a storm. Constantly they whispered words of thanks and encouragement into their horses' ears, and the steeds neighed and strode out faster.

A rush of adrenalin had caught the siblings, and they felt a wave of uneasiness crash over them. The night seemed darker than usual, the trees did not whisper, the earth was silent, and the stars could not comfort them. On and on they rode, but with every step that they got closer to their younger brother, they felt more worried.

Something was near, something huge and evil. It was almost like a black thundercloud that rose on the horizon; it slowly but surely made its way over the sky, covering the world with worry and fear. Where it touched, darkness descended, and the world grew cold and silent.

Elrohir, as the more sensible of the twins, had felt the shiver first, and soon Elladan felt it as well. They had not inherited the gift of foresight from their father, but they had the ability to feel danger for the ones they loved the most. And in this night, they both felt that it was Estel, who was in danger. They no longer doubted this.

They could not feel their brother right now, but whether that was good or not, they did not know. Not feeling Estel could be good, as it meant that he was well. But on the other hand, it could mean that he was already dead.

But the twins did not believe that, could not believe that. There was still a chance that Estel was alive, and they would reach him in time. Had they not always come in time? Had they not always been able to rescue him out of one peril or the other? Had there not always been enough time?

This time would be no different. It could not be different.

Slowly, the sun rose over the horizon, burning the treetops in a soft pink and lilac. The shadows of the night crawled back into their hiding places, and the forest awoke to life. Rabbits came out of their holes, and two squirrels bathed in the sunny rays.

But the twins did not stop, or notice. Bend low over their horses' necks, they rushed through the forest, scaring the birds and beasts. The trees seemed to jump out of their path, the bushes bend their branches out of their way, and the woods grew silent while they passed.

Higher and higher the sun ascended, and soon the golden rays filled the forest with light. And with the sun coming out from behind the Misty Mountains, a jolting pain erupted in Elrohir's stomach.

He gasped, and gripped the reins of his horse tightly. Closing his eyes, he pressed a hand to his stomach.

_Oh no, please no. Not yet, not now._

Elrohir had felt this only once before, when his mother had been waylaid by orcs on the Redhorn Path. He knew that it was no illness that plagued him, nor the poison. No, this feeling was different. And it immediately scared him to the bones. His heart seemed to be crushed by an icy fist, his breathing caught in his throat, and he felt his chest burn.

_Please Valar, no, no._

He shook his head from side to side. This could not be happening. Not yet. They were so near, so near. They had ridden so fast through the night, and they could almost see the slopes of the mountains. If they kept up their pace and the little rests, they would reach the mountains the next morning. This could not happen. Not yet.

"Ro?"

Elladan had sensed his brother's pain. His own stomach felt uneasy, and he felt it flip and churn with every step the horse took. But he could not feel the pain his brother felt, at least not as strong.

"Ro?"

Elladan's voice was tense with worry. Elrohir's face was white, his eyes tightly closed, and Elladan could see that one of his hands gripped the reins so hard that the knuckles shone white. The other was pressed tightly over the stomach.

He did not know what was happening to his twin, but he felt that something horrible must have happened to make his brother act like that.

_Estel…_

Slowing his horse, he reached over and gripped the reins of Elrohir's steed in his own hand. Tucking at them slightly and whispering for the horse to stop, he slowed them both down to a trot.

Suddenly, Elrohir's eyes snapped open, and his gaze fixed on his brother. His lips were pale and cold sweat stood on his brow. But where the face was nearly white, the eyes were burning with emotions. Worry and fear stood in them, as well as pain and determination.

He took a deep breath, and then shook his head.

"No, Dan. We must not stop. Not now. Saes, Dan."

Elladan watched his brother for a long moment, neither of them blinking or averting their eyes. Never had Elladan seen his brother agitated…and scared. Perhaps only once, when their mother had been captured…

Then, he swallowed and nodded. Taking his hand away from the reins of Elrohir's horse, he let his own steed stride out faster again. If his brother told him not to stop, he would not. And if Elrohir felt that Estel was in danger, then he would not ignore that.

So, the two raced on through the forest, ducking under low hanging branches, jumping over fallen trunks, and wading through icy streams. They could not stop, and they would not. Their brother's life hung in the balance, and they had promised their father to bring Estel back.

And they had vowed to themselves that they would find their brother and take him home.

Leaning forwards in his saddle and whispering to his horse, Elrohir took a deep breath to calm his senses and to will the pain in his stomach to subside.

_Oh saes, don't let us be too late._

--oOo--

Stopping his horse, Legolas let his keen gaze travel over the way before him, and then the mountains far beyond. The air had become still, now that the rumbling was gone.

_Strange…maybe an earthquake? Or a rockslide? Mh, it must have happened far down, some leagues away. I see neither dust nor falling rocks._

It had started as a low grumbling in the north. The mountains had shivered and shaken, and then the air had trembled and grumbled. To his straining ears, it had sounded as if there were masses of stone tumbling down the mountain's slopes. The tinkling and rolling of the smaller rocks, accompanied by the crashing and crushing of the bigger ones.

But, Legolas had not been near enough to be sure, and even now, he was not certain whether he had maybe imagined the sounds of falling rocks. Rockslides were not unusual in the Misty Mountains. The rain and the wind eroded the stones, and the fog and the water made the smaller pebbles slip on the wet ground. With the coming of winter, the water in the higher regions froze, and where it had flowed into crevices and cracks, the frozen water would crack the stones. No, truly, rockslides were quite common here.

_But so far down the mountain? Yes, it was cold yesterday night, but not so cold as to cause a rockslide…_

Narrowing his eyes and gazing into the distance, he tried to see some sign of the slide, but he could see nothing. Sighing, he absent-mindedly played with the mane of his horse. For long moments he sat there, staring to the north, and thinking.

Then, with a resolute pat on his steed's neck, he gripped the reins and steered his horse around. It neighed confused. It trusted its rider, but this was strange.

"We are heading to the north, mellon nin. We go to the north. Noro lim, mellon nin, noro lim."

And with that, the two sped down the mountain, heading to the north in the direction the rumbling and rolling had come from.

_It seems the question whether to head to Imladris or the North has just been answered for me. Whatever this was, it was nothing good, of that I am sure._

His blond hair trailed behind him as he rushed over stone and rocks, pebbles and gravel. Had Legolas taken more time to locate his position, he would have noticed that, indeed, the decision where to go had been taken for him long before.

Unconsciously, he had ridden farther to the north than he had intended, and therefore he had followed Estel for the last one and a half days already. And in the course of the same time, one and a half day, he would reach the place of the rockslide.

End of chapter 11

Tbc…

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Hy! Well, what do you think? Do you like it? Finally, the evil has found Estel and captured him, or...killed him? eg. I am a bit nervous about this chapter, so tell me what you think, please? Please, please, please?

You know, this is the first story of mine, with which I could reach the 100 reviews...so, the tiny little button on the left side of the page begs to be used. hint hint. Hope you had fun reading, and the next chapter comes asap. Promise!


	13. 12 Deadly Traps

**Title: The Roots of Evil**

**For Disclaimer, Warnings, etc. please see chapter 1/2 (Thank you!).**

**Chapter 12 "Deadly Traps"**

**A/N 1: **

_Characters (OCs):_

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

_Elvish terms:_

Amin hiraetha: I am sorry (S)

Iston: I know (S)

Mellon nin: My friend (S)

Muindor: Brother by blood (S)

**A/N 2**: **Many thanks to all the wonderfull reviews! Finally, I managed to get 100! makes happy dance THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!It makes me so happy to see and hear that there are people out there who like my storie, it is a wonderful feeling. :o)**

**Beta: Chris. Hannon le!**

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_"Tricks and traps can make you fall, but to get up and start walking again is the only thing that keeps you from yielding."_

* * *

Chapter 12: Deadly Traps

The rumbling and rolling of the stones had stopped some minutes ago, and the dust had only just begun to settle. Sand and debris was hanging thick in the air, and Dagnir was sure that the dust cloud could be seen for many miles.

The sunny rays of the sun illuminated the dust, but they could not pierce it, and so it was almost impossible to see anything. Rocks and stones littered not only the entire entrance to the clearing, but a lot of the space before it as well. Some of the smaller ones had even rolled till the huge oak on which Dagnir was still sitting.

When the crashing sound of falling boulders had met his ears, his heart had fluttered in glee. Finally, finally all his hard work and planning had come to conclusion. The ranger would be caught in the clearing, unable to escape. And Dagnir would be able to let him suffer from the poison, and watch him draw his last, painful breath.

But then, it had looked as if the whole rock wall had come tumbling down, and the ranger and his horse had already been in the middle of the entrance. He had heard the ranger yell to his horse and had seen as the man had been hit by a boulder.

Then, things had gone completely out of control. More and more rocks had come down on rider and horse, but instead of fleeing, the damned horse had just stood there,…and waited for its death.

The last thing Dagnir had seen was the falling horse, and a rock that sailed straight for the ranger.

The bow had fallen to the ground, and Dagnir had sat still in the tree, almost too afraid to breathe. This could not have happened. The ranger was not supposed to die in the rockslide! Slowly, the paralysis that had gripped him lessened, and he began to shake his head hysterically.

_No, no, no, no , NO! This damned horse! These bloody, stupid, good for nothing, idiots! If they have killed him, if he is dead, oh, they will wish to have never met me…_

With sweaty fingers he scrambled down the oak, not minding the branches and twigs that scratched his skin and left tiny bloody cuts on his hands and face. Jumping the last yard, he practically flew to the clearing's entrance.

The dust still hung thick in the air, but here and there it had already settled, and what the white haired former captain saw, made his blood boil.

There were stones everywhere. The entrance was not only blocked, but barricaded. Not even a mountain troll would be able to remove the rocks. Not that Dagnir had not wanted this to happen, no, this was actually what he had wanted to happen. But not with the ranger in the middle of it all!

_These, these, incompetent…bastards. Oh, they are so dead._

Stemming his hands in his sides, he agitatedly walked from the right to the left in front of the collapsed entrance.

_Oh, come here you little maggots. Just let me get my hands on you…oh, just you wait. Can these…idiots…do nothing right?_

After some minutes of restless pacing, Dagnir saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning and looking to the right, he saw Hador run towards him. The hunter was from head to toe covered in gray dust, and his hair stood at odd angles. In his hand he still held the thick branch that he had used to set loose the rockslide on his side of the entrance.

Upon reaching Dagnir's side, he bent over slightly and took a deep breath. Grinning, he seemed to be ignorant of his leader's bad mood.

"Have you seen that? The…the whole thing came down! Gigantic! Have you seen that?"

Hador was still out of breath, and he licked his dry lips quickly. His eyes were directed at the setting dust cloud, and they gleamed with unsuppressed agitation. It seemed the man had enjoyed the rockslide and was thinking that all had happened the way it was supposed to happen.

Narrowing his glowing red eyes, Dagnir took a step forwards. He let his hands fall from his sides, and his right hand was balled into a fist. Cold fury stood in his eyes, and his face was a mask of anger.

With a low and scratchy voice, he answered, "Indeed. I have seen it. I have seen your…work."

Gazing at the former captain with a confused expression on his face, Hador seemed to suddenly realize that something was wrong. Taking a step back from the advancing Gondorian, he swallowed. He was not afraid of Dagnir, not really. Only…a bit.

"Yes, all happened as you ordered, Sir."

"Oh, has it?" Dagnir's voice was even lower now, and it held a tone of sarcasms that Hador did not like at all.

Taking another step to the now frightened looking hunter, Dagnir continued, "Have I ordered to let the whole mountain come down? Have I ordered to wait ages from hearing the signal till setting the rockslide loose? Have I ordered to behave so stupidly that you would KILL THE RANGER?"

He screamed the last words, and his former white face was red with anger. His eyes gleamed dangerously, and his hands were balled to tight fists at his side. Hador gulped and retreated hastily, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Sir, we only did what you told us to do!"

"I did not tell you to kill him!"

By now, Podlim and Morgwath had appeared on the scene as well, but they dared not approach the two. Podlim was constantly running a hand through his hair and looked scared to the bones. But Morgwath looked rather slightly amused. It had not been his task to let the rocks fall from the mountain. He had been stationed near the entrance, and it had been his task to make sure that ranger would not be able to escape, should he really make it out of the clearing. As it had been, that had not been necessary.

Crossing his arms on his chest, Morgwath gazed at the two men, and a small smile adorned his lips. Should they kill each other, who cared? He definitely not. He was only here to kill the ranger.

Neither Dagnir nor Hador noticed the others approach. Dagnir was seething with anger and wanted nothing more than to vent it, while Hador was too occupied with saving his neck. Stepping back another step, he tried again to reason with Dagnir.

"Dagnir, Sir, we did as we were told. It is not my fault the whole mountain came down."

"I do not care whose fault it is." And with that, the white haired man lunged forwards. Not having anticipated this, Hador was too slow to react. With lightning speed Dagnir had drawn his dagger, and pressed it at Hador's exposed neck.

Hador did not even dare to breathe, so tightly was the blade pressed against his throat. He could feel the metal bite into his skin, and a warm droplet of blood was making its way down his neck. Gulping, he locked eyes with Dagnir.

The former captain's face was a mask of anger, and Hador could have sworn that he saw the little veins in his eyes snap. Dagnir was breathing hard as well, and he seemed to be near to the breaking point.

_Oh, this is not good. This is not good at all, oh no, no, no, no, no…_

The dagger at his neck quivered, and another droplet of bright red blood ran down his neck. Wetting his lips, Hador send a quick prayer, and then waited for Dagnir to speak. He did not have to wait long.

"You know, I have learned that men obey better, when they get a little 'reminder' from time to time."

_Definitely not good…_

"And I think, this is the right time to give you a reminder, so that next time, you will listen more closely to what I say."

And with that, Dagnir drew his sharp dagger across Hador's throat, from one side to the other. Warm blood gushed from the large cut, and the man frantically pressed his hands against the wound. Gasping, he sank to the ground, holding his shallowly cut throat.

Stepping back, a satisfied smile on his face, Dagnir looked down on the hunter. Wiping the blood from his dagger, he stated coldly, "Next time, remember this before you go and do something foolish."

Turning without another word, Dagnir made his way over to the rock blocked entrance of the clearing. He passed Podlim and Morgwath on his way, and casually, as if nothing at all had happened, he commented, "What are you standing here staring? Get back to your posts."

Taking a deep breath, Podlim was unable to hold back, his voice bordering on terrified, "But, Sir, what about Hador?"

Gazing back at the by now wheezing man, Dagnir grimaced and then shrugged. "He will live. For now." And with that, he marched away.

Staring after the Gondorian, Podlim let his hand move through his hair, tangling it. Then, he slowly shook his head.

_He is mad. He will kill us all, sooner or later._

Turning his head and looking to Morgwath, he saw that the other man was not looking at Dagnir, but at Hador. A small smile graced his thin lips, and Podlim could have sworn to see desire in the black eyes. Feeling a cold shiver run down his spine, he made his way over to the hunter.

_They are all mad. All! By the gods, what have I gotten my self into this time?_

Reaching Hador's side, he knelt down and tried to take a look at the cut. Blood was covering the neck and chest, the hands and the grass on which the hunter was kneeling. It was staining the tunic and leggings and was practically everywhere.

Hador's face was whiter than white, nearly gray, and his lips were pressed so tightly together that Podlim began to ask himself how the man managed to breathe at all. But what frightened the poacher the most was not the blood, or the ugly cut on the man's neck. As a poacher he was used to blood and injuries of all kinds.

No, what scared him, were the man's eyes. They were wide open and bloodshot, but they held not longer a look of fear. Instead, they shimmered in anger and hate. Revenge. It seemed the hunter had taken the little 'reminder' rather badly.

Still gasping and pressing his hands against his throat, Hador suddenly spoke, "Oh, he will pay for that, he will pay, of that I make sure."

Taking out a clean cloth and beginning to take care of the cut, Podlim shook his head. "No, think of whom you are talking. Dagnir will kill you without giving it a second thought."

"I am not speaking of the white haired bastard. I am speaking of this damned ranger. If he is still alive, I will kill him. It is all his fault!"

Grasping one of the bloody hands of the hunter in his own and pulling it away from the cut, Podlim finally got a closer look at the injury. The gash ran across the whole of the neck, and although it was deep, it was not deep enough to be lethal. Relieved, he pressed the cloth on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Then, he answered Hador's words, "The ranger? What has he to do with all that?"

Hador would have laughed, but his hurting throat prevented him from doing so. Was the poacher really that stupid, or did he only pretend to be?

"The ranger has all to do with it. He is the reason I am here, the reason you are here. Were it not for him, I would not be stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a crazed Gondorian and some elves on our heels. The ranger is the sole reason for the trouble I have. Oh, and I will make sure he pays for this."

"Then make sure you kill him before Dagnir does." It had been meant as a joke, but Hador frowned, and then nodded, thereby reopening the cut in some places.

"Aye, I will see to that."

When Podlim had finished binding the wound. and they were making their way to their posts, he found himself breathing heavily.

_They are all crazy, all! Oh please, I swear, if I ever come out of this, I will…never again 'accidentally' kill someone._

--oOo--

Elrond stood on his airy balcony in Imladris, overlooking the waterfalls and cliffs around him. The morning sun had just risen behind the Misty Mountains, and the golden rays reflected on the rivers and ponds, melted the frost on the grass and woke the birds and animals that called Imladris their home.

But it was not the sun that had awoken him from his restless slumber. Since the departure of the twins the day before, he had neither eaten nor truly slept. His whole body felt tense and on edge, and Elrond had not felt this way for many centuries. Knowing that this feeling was caused by the evil that descended on his family, he had not been able to find rest.

With the waking of Arda this morning, he had felt a jolting pain in his stomach, his head had spun and breathing had become difficult. Within a split second, he had known that something horrible had happened.

Darkness had claimed his senses, and his heart beat wildly against his chest. The air in his bedroom felt stale and thick, and without second thought he had gone to his balcony. Elrond loved this balcony; from here he saw his sons return from their journeys, from here had had first seen Estel.

_Estel…_

This was the place he came to think; it gave him peace and provided stillness from the queries of the world. So, why could he find no rest on this wonderful morning?

Deep inside, he knew that something had happened to Estel, he no longer doubted that his youngest was in mortal peril. But he refused to accept that it was already too late to save him. There was always time, time to find him, help him, rescue him.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his long fingers on the railing before him. Ivy sneaked over the wood, and tiny white flowers craned their necks to reach the sun.

Suddenly, he heard soft footsteps behind him, and then the unmistakable sound of a robe that slid over polished wood. Despite his gloomy mood, he smiled knowingly. Whenever he worried for his sons, or was saddened by something, he could count on his best friend.

Without turning, he tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Glorfindel."

"My Lord." The golden haired advisor sidled up to his friend and rested his hands on the wooden railing as well. Gazing over the gardens of the Last Homely House, he spoke softly, "Have you foreseen anything, mellon nin?"

Elrond shook his head, "No. I saw nothing. And I see nothing. The future is veiled, and I cannot pierce it. But what I used to see dims before my eyes."

Eyes widening, Glorfindel snapped his head to the side and looked at his friend, "Elrond?"

Taking a deep breath, the lord of Imladris did not take his eyes away from the serenity before him as he spoke. His voice was full of suppressed emotions, and the sadness and worry in it made it shake slightly.

"I see darkness, Glorfindel. When I looked into Estel's future, I saw peril and danger, but hope and peace as well. I used to see the White City and the White Tree. I saw it blossom, mellon nin. But when I look now, I…I only see darkness."

And in a whisper, he added, "I see no hope. I cannot see Estel."

Glorfindel felt his heart grew cold, and his chest seemed to constrict.

_Please no, not Estel. Please, Iluvatar, do not take him from us._

Placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, he moved closer. "Elrond, darkness can be overcome by light. And even in the darkest night, the stars will shine."

Elrond nodded sadly, and finally turned to look his friend in the eye. Glorfindel tightened his hold on his shoulder. In Elrond's eyes stood deep worry and fear, but there was a sparkle of hope as well.

Inclining his head and placing his other hand on Elrond's shoulder as well, he gazed deep into the other's eyes. With determination in his voice, he assured his friend, "Hope will always prevail, my friend. And you have not named him Estel out of a whim. The twins will find a way. If they can not, no one can. But they will find him, and bring him back to us. And then the future will be clear once more."

Smiling sadly, but accepting the comfort that his friend gave him, Elrond nodded. Nevertheless, when he turned back to look towards the Misty Mountains that loomed in the distance, he could not help but say softly, "The future is never clear, my friend. It is unstable until we walk the path that lies before us."

--oOo--

The day seemed to sped past for Legolas. The gray stones of the mountains passed under the hooves of his horse, and the sky stretched endless above him. It was of a vibrant blue with tiny white clouds here and there.

The chill of the night had vanished, and instead the air was warm with the golden rays of the sun. Arnor had melted the frost on the stones, and Legolas thought he could even hear the ice melt on the peaks of the mountains, although he knew that that was impossible.

He rode through the day without stopping, and when darkness settled once more and the sun vanished in the West, he slowed his steed to a trot, but did not stop. Since the rumbling in the early morning, he had heard no further sound, but still he felt as if something horrible had happened.

Now, a few hours after sunset, he had finally reached the lower slopes of the Misty Mountains. He could see the forest below him, and smell the rich earth. Deciding that it would be best to first reach the even ground before setting up camp, he urged his tired horse onwards.

Having smelled the forest and the water of a little stream, the steed needed no further encouragement. Neighing happily, it made its way down the mountain, ever careful not to tread loose the pebbles and gravel that littered the slopes.

Finally, horse and rider reached the green grass at the bottom of the Misty Mountains. Legolas took a deep breath, and gave his horse a satisfied pat on the neck.

"Oh, you are such a good boy, mellon nin."

Feeling the tiredness of his horse and the stiffness in his own limbs, he rode some ways away from the outcroppings of the mountains. When he reached an area of soft green grass and the little stream, he stopped his horse and dismounted.

Lifting the reins over the huge head of the steed, he guided it to the water, and it drank eagerly. Legolas rolled his shoulders and moved his injured arm to loosen stiff muscles. He had no problem with a day in the saddle, but the constant mist and the dampness, combined with his worry and fear for Estel, had made his body tense.

Having finished its drinking, the horse lifted its head and eyed Legolas out of big brown eyes. It neighed softly, but when the elf did not react, it bumped its head into his chest.

Snapping his head to his steed, Legolas gazed at it confused. The horse nickered again, and then its head shot out once more, and it nuzzled his chest eagerly.

A smile appeared on his face, and he could not help laughing when it finally dawned on him. Reaching into his tunic, he took out a big piece of dried apple and held it out for the horse to eat. It took it happily, and began to munch away.

Still smiling, he scratched the big horse's head. "Aye, I forgot. Good that you reminded me, mellon."

Indeed, Legolas had promised the horse a piece of sugar when they reached the slopes of the mountains. And an elf, a prince no less, was no one who easily broke a promise.

With the stars shining down on him and the moon casting the forest in a silver light, Legolas rolled out his bed roll, and prepared for the night. So near to the mountains, it was cold and a fine mist had begun to sneak over the lands. Sighing, Legolas decided that it could do no harm to light a fire. After all, he had not had a fire in days!

Scrambling to his feet, he made his way noiselessly into the forest. The trees were high and moss covered; the undergrowth was thick and the ground was full of dead leaves and tiny needles.

The moon was not able to penetrate the still dense tree tops, but Legolas did not need the light of it to find his way. His own elvish glow and his keen eyesight made it possible for him to see his way.

Within a few moments, he had collected enough dry wood to let a small fire burn through the whole night. The summer had been dry and the autumn long, therefore the woods were full of dead wood. It would burn hot and bright, exactly what he wanted in this cold night.

Turning on his heels, the firewood in his arms, he made his way back to his camp. Suddenly, something snapped under his foot, and before he knew what was happening to him, he felt himself flat on his back.

The next second, he heard a swooshing sound and felt something impact with his chest. Then…stillness.

Blinking, he took a shallow breath. He did not know what had just happened. Had he been attacked? No, there was no one around, he would have felt that. Had he tripped?

_Never! I am a Wood-elf!_

But then, what had happened? He could not deny the fact that he was lying on his back, on the leave covered ground. Everything had happened so fast that he had not even been able to reach for his weapons.

_Well, you will not find out by lying lazily around. Get up, Legolas!_

But before he stood to his feet, he let his gaze travel to the right and left to make sure that he was truly alone. Assured that he was indeed the only person in the forest, he slowly sat up. With the firewood still in his arms, he made it to his feet.

The moon shone down on him, and, it reflected from the wood he carried!

_Strange…_

Bending down to get a better look, Legolas examined the branches in his arms. His eyes widened and he gasped in surprise. This could not be true. He was imagining this!

But no, it was true. The branches he carried in his arms were not reflecting the moonlight. But the tiny slim arrows that protruded from them.

Legolas swallowed. With his right hand, he took one of the arrows in his hand. It was light and thin, made out of black wood that did not grow in this region of Arda. Legolas had only once seen an arrow carved from such wood, and that had been an arrow of a Corsair.

_Corsairs in these woods? Ridiculous!_

No, there must be another solution to the problem. But, where the arrow came from was not the most pressing problem at the moment. Fact was that, had Legolas not carried the wood in his arms in front his chest, he would be dead now. Pierced by at least ten sharp and lethal arrows.

_This was a trap. A very fine trap if not even I have noticed it. I wonder who has set it, and for whom._

Throwing the arrow to the ground, setting the wood on the forest floor as well, Legolas got down to his hands and knees and began to examine the trap more closely. The ground was covered with dead leaves and broken twigs, here and there he could see his own soft tracks. But other than that…

_This is not possible! There must a sign!_

Letting his hands slide over the ground, he suddenly felt a…rope under his fingers. Lifting it out of the soft earth, he followed it with his eyes and soon found the source for his fall. It was a trap, there was not doubt about that any longer.

The rope was leading to a thin branch, half buried under a bush. When Legolas had stepped on the rope, he had set the branch swinging from the side of the path to the other, therewith tripping him and sending him flying to the ground.

And as he had landed hard on his back, he had set free the second part of the trap. The tiny arrows had flown from above, directly at his chest. Truly, the firewood had saved his life.

Sitting back on his heels, Legolas rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Why would someone set up a trap in this area? This close to the Misty Mountains, there were no settlements, neither human not elvish. And furthermore, there was no game to find here. Most of the deer and boars lived deeper in the woods, where the trees grew denser and they were more protected.

So, why set up a trap here? For what purpose?

_Perhaps it was not a trap meant for animals. Mayhap it was meant for…elves?_

Legolas, as well as any other elf living in Middle-earth, knew that some humans hunted elves to sell them on slave markets. But he did not know that this had ever happened so close to Imladris. Actually, something like this had never happened in close proximity to the elven haven.

_Whoever has set this trap, if he was no elf, he must have left a sign of his passing. Even rangers leave some signs! Small signs, granted, but still…_

Crouching down once more, Legolas examined the trap and the surrounding forest carefully. The moon shone through the high branches, and here and there the argent light was bright enough to illuminate the ground. But, even with this help, Legolas found nothing.

Just when he sighed resignedly and wanted to stop his search and return to his camp, his searching fingers felt something. A small imprint in the moist earth. Bending down and letting his sensitive fingers glide over the dent in the ground, Legolas took a closer look.

And surely, it was a footprint! Not very deep and well covered, but still there. Once he had found this first sign, he soon found more and more prints, but with every new footprint that he discovered, his worry increased.

As far as he could tell, there were two sets of prints, one deeper than the other. It were human tracks, that much was certain. But that was not the reason for Legolas' worry. The tracks were fresh, a day or two old at least. Two humans had been here, had set a trap and had then set out…to the north. In the direction Estel had taken.

Straightening and returning to his firewood, Legolas made his way back to his campsite, stalking through brake and bush noiselessly. Once back, he placed the faggot beside him, but did not light a fire. Absent mindedly he stared into the dark night.

_They went in the direction Estel took. They came along this way after he had already passed._

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his pointed ear, he rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers.

_Think, Legolas, think! You know that they were here after Estel had been here. And they set up this trap, maybe more. And you know that the traps were not meant for animals. So, the conclusion is…Oh, think!_

Taking up a small stone in frustration, he threw it angrily away. He heard it hit some rocks in the darkness, and then silence once more settled over the campsite.

_Can it be possible? Where they not only heading in the same direction as Estel, but actually following him? Why should they do that? And, even if they were, why set a trap when Estel has long passed this area? This makes no sense._

Shaking his head and picking up another stone, he was just about to throw it into the darkness as well, when another thought hit him.

_Maybe they thought that,…that someone would follow Estel! Not many people journey so near the mountains, and then it is mostly elves. So, what if they were setting the traps in case they were followed? If they were following Estel in the first place, of course. Yes, that could it be._

Letting his arm sink to the side, Legolas took a deep breath. It sounded ridiculous, yes, and far fetched as well, yes, but still…He had a strange feeling that he was correct in his assumptions. Suddenly, the urge to set out again and head into the night became overpowering.

If Estel was being followed, then he was in even more danger than Legolas had initially thought. And then, maybe the rumbling he had heard in the morning had had something to do with Estel.

But Legolas knew that it was too dark to ride, and his horse needed some rest after the exhausting march from the mountains. And, if he was honest with himself, he needed some rest as well. His wound needed tending if he wanted it to not get infected, and his stomach felt empty.

Frustrated by his own inability to help Estel, Legolas slumped in the grass and let his head fall into his hands. He could go no further this night, but tomorrow, tomorrow he would set out, and not stop ere he had found his friend.

_And some lousy traps will not stop me, by the Valar!_

--oOo--

Night settled slowly over the forest, and in the gloaming, Elladan and Elrohir had reached a small clearing. The lonely hoot of an owl filled the air, and in the next second the twins saw the animal sail through through the sky.

Taking a sip out of his water flask, Elladan turned in his saddle. To rest the horses, they had slowed them to a walk. He did not truly wish to stop for the night, but this clearing looked perfect. High trees surrounded the edges of it, and Elladan had the feeling that this would be the last time, they would be able to rest.

Hanging his flask back at a hook on his saddle, Elladan turned towards his brother.

"Maybe we should stop here fore some hours. The horses could take some rest, and we could eat and make some tea."

"I do not want to stop, muindor. Estel needs us."

Scratching his forehead and sighing deeply, Elladan nodded. Nevertheless, he tried again to convince his brother, "Iston, Ro. But we could do with some rest as well. Once we…arrive…there will perhaps be no time to rest. And if I know our dear brother at least a bit, we will need our strength to get him out of whatever he has managed to get into this time."

Elrohir's voice was flat when he answered, "Do no speak so lightly of the danger that lies before us. You do not know what has happened."

Flinching at his brother's tone, Elladan apologized immediately, "Amin hiraetha, Ro. I am just…"

When he did not find the right word, his brother, as so often, finished the sentence for him, "Tired? Worried? Scared? Angry? Iston, Dan. I feel the same."

Sighing and taking a look at the darkening sky and the inviting clearing before him, Elrohir added, "Perhaps you are right, and we should take a short rest."

Nodding at his brother, Elladan steered his horse into the clearing and dismounted. Soon, his brother had joined him, and they shared a quick meal. They had not felt any sickness for the last days, and they had already begun to forget their illness. Had it not been for the huge bag of healing supplies that their father had packed, they would have already forgotten it.

When darkness had descended completely and the moon rose in the sky, Elrohir suddenly broke the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper, "Dan, do you think…do you think that…I mean…"

"No, Ro. He is alive, he is out there, and we will find him. And then we will drag him back to ada, so that he can lecture him about scaring us thus."

"Yes, I know. But still, this morning, it felt so…real. As if something horrible had happened to Estel. I…Dan, I am scared."

It was rare to hear such an admission from the proud elf, and Elladan felt a pang in his heart. For his brother to admit any kind of weakness was a sign that something was truly amiss. Reaching out and wrapping his arms around his brother, therewith pulling him into a tight hug, Elladan whispered into his ear, "We will find him. And I swear to you, Ro, that we will bring him back to ada safe and sound. All will be well. You'll see."

Feeling his brother nod against his shoulder and sigh softly, Elladan held him for long minutes. And although he had sounded determined and convincing to his brother, he himself felt not that sure that he could hold that promise.

But he knew that he would die trying, should it come to that.

--oOo--

Darkness and pain, that were the first things he noticed upon waking. The world around him seemed cold and unyielding, compressed and sticky. Then, there was pain. Plain and simple, stomach turning, chest constricting pain.

Estel did not know how long he had been lying on the cold and hard ground, and neither did he know how he had come to lie on the ground in the first place. Slowly, his mind drifted towards consciousness, and he had been unable to stop himself from waking. He did not know why he did not want to wake, but he had a distinct feeling that he did not want to, not truly.

Estel reached the state of full alertness slowly, but when he shifted slightly, an agonizing pain shot through his whole body. It was so intense that the breath caught in his throat, his body began to shiver, and he wished instantly that he had not woken.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Estel willed his body to stop trembling, and after what seemed like hours, it slowly ceased. With the stillness of his body, the pain decreased to a bearable level. Sighing softly, Estel once more opened his eyes.

All around him was blackness. He saw nothing; no shapes, no forms, no shades of gray. Tilting his head to the side, he winced suddenly. A sharp pain erupted at the back of his head, and he felt his heart pound in his head.

_Great, the orc with the blunt axe is back._

Waiting in vain for the pounding to cease, he took a deep breath.

_And he has reinforcements. What happened!_

Looking around despite the hurt in his head, Estel tried to shift his position. As he had feared, another white hot pain raced through his body, starting at his right knee, and then up and down his whole body.

_This is not good._

Confused, Estel let his hands do the work and feel his surroundings. All he could feel was stone and rock, debris and sand. Where was he and what had happened to him? Suddenly, his right hand felt something soft. Probing, he felt …fur! A horse.

_Thenidair!_

In a rush, his memories came back to him. The clearing, the oak tree, the rockslide. He…Estel gulped…he must be trapped under the masses of stone that had tumbled down from the mountain.

Shocked, he realized that he was still lying in the same position as when he had fallen. His legs were trapped under the body of his steed, and all around him was cold stone. Closing his eyes, Estel suddenly came to another conclusion.

_Thenidair is dead._

And truly, the loyal horse had died when it had been hit by the rocks, but its death had saved its master's life. With its body, it had caught most of the flying stones, and therewith prevented Estel from being crushed.

Chocking silently, Estel sent a prayer to the Valar, and hoped that his horse had not suffered. Thenidair had been a gift from his family when he had been younger, and he had loved the horse dearly. More than once it had saved his life, and they had never been parted for long. He knew that he would miss his horse, as it had become his friend during his long and lonesome travels.

Swallowing thickly and trying to ignore the fact that he was trapped under his dead horse, Estel stared into the darkness. When there was rock all around him, why was he not dead? The rockslide had been great enough to kill him, there had been so many stones and boulders.

Taking his hand away from the cold coat of his steed, Estel reached to the side, but his hand met only stone. Then he lifted his hand, and suddenly, his fingers hit cold stone. Right above him!

_So that is why I am still alive. A huge block of stone must have come down, and then held off the other stones._

Sighing, he let his hand fall to the ground once more. Valar was he tired. The pounding in his head had not abated, and he was more than sure that he suffered from a severe concussion. When he had tilted his head, he had felt the dried blood on his face, and he could already smell the copper liquid. But whether it was his own blood that made him nauseous or that of his horse, he could not tell.

_I need to get out of here. I need to get away, I need to…oh sweet Eru, please help me._

Taking a deep breath, Estel decided that now was as good as any to try and free himself, and therewith he pressed his hands against the dead body of his horse, and tried to pull his legs from under the animal.

Immediately, white-hot pain assaulted him, and he could not help but scream in pain. The scream was cut off by a coughing fit, and after it subsided, he shivered and trembled once more. Opening his eyes that he had not even felt closing, he swallowed dryly.

_Ai, please. Please._

He did not know who he was pleading with, and he knew that it was useless, as there was no one near to help him. If he wanted to get out of this rockslide alive, he would have to free himself.

Gulping down the pain that still ripped through his right leg, he took another deep breath, gritted his teeth together and pushed. Groaning, he willed his trembling arms to keep pushing, and slowly, very slowly, he could feel his legs slide out from under the heavy body of the dead steed.

The pounding in his head increased, red spots began to dance in his vision, and he felt dizzy. Nevertheless, he pushed with his arms and at the same time drew his trapped legs towards his chest.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Estel, his legs came free from under the corpse, and he let his trembling arms fall to the ground. Nausea assaulted his stomach; he could feel the bile rise in his throat.

The red spots before his eyes increased in numbers and he could feel his waking mind slip into darkness once more. Taking a deep breath to fight the nausea, he willed his body to roll to the side.

_Just in case, just in case…_

The darkness around him became even more intense, and the pain in his knee and body grew weaker. Unconsciousness had come to claim him, and he even welcomed it.

And as the blackness carried his pain away together with his waking mind, his last thought was strange for a moment such as this.

_I hate chirping birds in the morning._

End of chapter 12

Chapter 13 is called "Hold on!"

Tbc…

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**So, what do you think? Come on, I know your finger itches and you just want to press the tiny little submit review button. g Make me happy and tell me what you think about this chapter, yes please? And you do want an update, so that you find out if Estel will survive this hooror, or not? And to find out in what trouble Legolas manages to get? eg**


	14. 13 Hold on!

**Chapter 13 "Hold on!"**

**A/N 1: **

_Characters (OCs):_

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

_Elvish terms (S):_

Amin hiraetha: I am sorry

Baw, mellyn: No, friends

Daro: Stop

Dartho talaf: stay on the ground

Mellon nin: My friend

Min, tâd,…Neledh: One, two,…three

Muindor: Brother by blood

Thenidair: Loyal Shadow

**Beta:** Chris! Whew, I do not want to know how long it took you to beta this chapter. According to all my silly mistakes...very long. Thank you soooo much.

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_"When you think you cannot walk another mile, walk two."_

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Chapter 13: Hold on

The grass glistered white in the morning sun; the branches of the trees swayed slightly in the soft breeze, whispering among themselves. The wavy mist that crawled around the roots and low bushes reflected the weak rays of Arnor, giving the woods an almost magical touch.

A squirrel jumped lightly from tree to tree, and some birds high in the branches sang wonderfully; their sweet voices welcoming the new day.

Walking lightly over the frosty grass, his feet crunching it slightly, Elladan made his way over to his horse to ready it for their journey while Elrohir was extinguishing the small fire that they had lit during the night to keep them warm and to make some soothing tea.

They had ridden through most of the night, but in the cold hours of morning, they had stopped and rested for some hours. The horses needed the rest, and the twins had felt tired as well. Now, rested and with full stomachs, they were ready to go on.

Elrohir had not been able to sleep well during the night, and he looked rather tired; still Elladan had not asked if they should rest longer. Elrohir would have rejected this option as soon as he would have asked. Just as Elladan adjusted his pack on his horse's back, his brother reached his side.

Placing a hand on Elladan's forearm, Elrohir locked eyes with his brother. At first, he said nothing, and Elladan waited patiently. When his brother spoke, it was with uncertainty in his voice,

"Dan, I don't know, but…I have a feeling as if…as if we are too far north."

Frowning slightly, Elladan took a look at his surroundings. They were far in the north, nearly at the edge of the forest, but too far north?

"Well, we can ride a bit to the south, if you want, but I think that we are…"

"Yes, I would like that," Elrohir interjected, not waiting until his brother had finished,. Withdrawing his hand, he went silently to his own steed and without hesitation, he mounted.

Sighing and eyeing his brother wearily, Elladan mounted as well. He knew that it was pointless to question his brother when he was in that special mood. Since their childhood, Elrohir had been the more sensitive one of the two, and more than once his 'feelings' had saved their lives. Still, somehow, it frustrated Elladan that his brother could feel things that he could not.

_Oh, don't be childish. You should be glad that Ro feels these things; otherwise, the two of you would be long dead._

And with that thought, Elladan urged his horse onwards, their path leading them a bit further to the south than before.

--oOo--

Eying the sun that stood high above the looming mountains, Legolas steered his horse deeper into the forest. For most of the day he had ridden north, leaving the site of the trap behind him. Now, mid afternoon, he slowed his horse and headed for the shelter and shadow of the woods.

Knowing that he was nearing the site of the rumbling and crashing, Legolas preferred the shelter from prying eyes that the trees would give him over the open plains. Furthermore, his horse was tired, and he knew that it would be more comfortable for the steed to walk on the soft earth of the forest than on the rocky ground of the mountains' outcroppings.

Ducking under a low hanging branch, Legolas peered through the shadowy twilight. The trees grew dense here, and the underbrush was exceptionally high. Dead leaves covered the forest floor, and vines of ivy wound around the trunks of the high trees. Moss and lichens grew on stones, and here and there he could see an abandoned rabbit hole.

The air was moist and chilly under the orange canopy, and Legolas took a deep breath to fill his lungs with the fresh air. He felt tired, but at the same time tense as a bowstring. The whole night many questions had bombarded him, and he had not been able to find any true rest.

With every step he took, his stomach felt more uneasy, and deep inside he knew that the answer to all his questions was lying not far before him. He was sure that whoever had set the trap, had caused the loud crashing and rumbling, and he felt that it had something to do with Estel. The only thing was, he knew neither who, nor why.

Suddenly, Legolas stopped his horse, "Daro!" His steed stopped abruptly, champing on its soft elvish bit. Grabbing his bow from his back and notching an arrow, Legolas tilted his head. He was sure he had heard something; although he could not tell whether it came form the left or the front.

Narrowing his eyes and trying to penetrate the shade of the trees with his keen eyes, he waited for the sound to repeat itself. A gust of wind played with his hair, a bird flew over his head, but Legolas did not move.

_Wait, wait…there!_

Without thinking, Legolas let his deadly arrow fly into the woods, whence the sound had come from. And now, he knew what he had heard; it had been two horses, riding fast through the forest. Legolas knew that no elves rode through this area; it was too far from Imladris, and there were no settlements here. No, whoever was riding towards him must be an enemy. Maybe even the one who had set the trap.

Notching a second arrow, Legolas pressed his knees into his horse's sides, and they headed into the direction of the sound.

_Finally, I am going to find out what is going on here._

--oOo--

"Ro, down!"

Jerking his horse to the side and narrowly avoiding a tree, Elladan screamed at his brother. He had heard the whooshing of the arrow a split second before his twin, as he had been riding in the front.

Feeling a sharp branch scrape against his cheek, Elladan swiveled in his saddle. He had felt the arrow rush past him, had actually seen the thin shaft and the …yellow…fletching. But had Elrohir been able to get out of the arrow's path in time?

_Oh, please Valar…_

A surprised exclamation reached Elladan's ears and his heart jumped into his throat.

_Ro!_

The next second, he finally caught sight of his brother. Elrohir was gripping his steed's reins tightly, but as it seemed the arrow had missed him. Their eyes locked, and the next second they had their bows drawn and arrows notched. Their faces grim, they charged forward. Whoever had shot at them, he would soon learn what it meant to attack the sons of Elrond!

--oOo--

Legolas felt his heart beat wildly in his chest, and his breathing quickened slightly. Riding hard, he still held the arrow steady on his bow. Common sense told him that it was folly to ride full force against an enemy he did not even know, but after all the tension of the last days and the fear for his friend, he did not care. He needed answers, and he wanted them now.

Jumping over a fallen log, he suddenly saw a movement to his right. Turning, he tightened his hold on the arrow, narrowed his eyes, and aimed. Whoever rode there, Legolas would make sure that he would not escape him. The thought that the rider could be an innocent, even a friend of him, did not once enter his fear and worry driven mind.

Following the rider with his keen eyes, Legolas held his breath, readjusted his aim, and then…gasped.

_Elladan!_

Surprised, he let go of the arrow, and it flew high into the air, hitting a tree trunk yards away from the charging twin. Eyes wide, he suddenly heard the deadly whistle of an arrow. Faster than the eye could see, he let himself glide from his horse, and with a loud thud he fell to the unyielding ground.

Breathing fast, he pressed himself flat against the hard ground, and as he heard another arrow whiz through the air, he did the only thing that came to his mind, "Baw, mellyn!"

For a moment, there was stillness, and then the agitated voice of Elrohir reached his ears.

"Legolas? Sweet Eru! Have you completely lost your mind? What are you doing here? I could have killed you!"

Flinching, Legolas scrambled to his feet and looked around. Elrohir had nearly reached his side, and Elladan was not far behind his brother. Both were pale and looked extremely scared.

_No wonder, you have attacked them for no reason, and then they nearly killed you._

Brushing the leaves and dirt from his clothing, and then reaching up to pick some twigs out of his hair, Legolas took a deep breath. He would have a lot of explaining to do. Just as he opened his mouth to explain, another thought hit him, and unable to hold back, he blurted out,

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in Imladris?"

Dismounting, the twins stood before him, sharing a quick glance with each other. Seeing the worry in their eyes and remembering his own feelings of dread and concern, he asked softly,

"Estel?"

Nodding, Elladan began to explain. It took not long to tell the tale, but when the older twin had finished, he eyed Legolas almost pleadingly.

"So, you are not ill, Legolas? You have not felt sick or feverish? Anything?"

"No." His voice was low, and he could not look the twins in the eyes. For the first time in his life, he actually wished to be ill, to feel the effects of poison in his body. Oh, it would have made things so much easier.

Because, the fact that he was not ill, confirmed the twins' fear for their brother. And the fact that the twins were here in the woods, confirmed Legolas's fear that Estel was in danger as well.

After some moments of silence, Legolas finally asked, "So, then you are poisoned. We are all here because we feel that Estel is in danger. But, why are you ill, and I am not?"

Deep inside, Legolas knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from his friends, to be able to believe it. It was Elladan who answered, "If you are not ill, it must have been a poison that affects only humans. Well, Estel has some elvish blood, and we, we have some human blood. We are affected by the poison because we are some part human."

The admission did not sound angered or ashamed, only never-endingly sad. He did not know what the twins went through exactly, but from what Elladan had told him, it had not been nice. He did not even want to think about what Estel was going through.

As if Elrohir had read his thoughts, he suddenly went to his horse's side. Mounting the steed and gripping the reins in his slender hands, he nodded into the direction Legolas had come from, "We should go. The sun sets in but a few hours."

Nodding, Elladan and Legolas mounted as well, and together they set out, . After a few minutes of silence, Legolas suddenly spoke up. His voice sounded sheepish, "Dan, Ro, amin hiraetha. I should not have shot into the forest without seeing my enemy."

"Well, it was stupid, but understandable. We are all tense… Do not worry Legolas,…I won't tell Estel."

Elladan was grinning, and winking at his brother.

In mock horror, Legolas pleaded with his friend, "No! Don't you dare tell him! He will lecture me for hours, and then he will laugh at me…endlessly."

Laughing lightly, Elladan tilted his head to the side, "What would you do to make me not tell him?"

There was a pause as Legolas thought about that. It did good to banter with his friends, despite the worry and fear that still permeated his entire being. The joy and the bickering seemed to lift the dark cloud that had moved above him, and he was glad for the short moment of normality.

Shrugging, he answered, "Mh, I think, I…will not seek any retribution for the pond incident."

"Deal!"

They rode on in silence, now and then steering their horses to the left or right to avoid thick underbrush or fallen trees. The sun climbed higher, the shadows grew longer, and the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains came nearer. And the nearer they came to the Hitheaglir, their worry for Estel increased.

The air was fresh and clean, and had it been any other day, the riders would have felt the joy of the forest and rejoiced in the life that grew so splendidly all around them. The birds chirped in the sun, the squirrels hushed to and fro, hiding their nuts for the coming winter, and the last insects of autumn buzzed through the air lazily.

But, Legolas could not shake the feeling that something was wrong in these woods, very wrong. The trees were whispering, but it was not the constant soft murmur that he was used to. It was rather an urgent pleading and rambling that he did not understand, and from the looks on the twins' faces, they could not either.

Riding in front of the three, Legolas suddenly felt the forest darken around him; the branches swayed to block the sun, the earth itself seemed churned, dead leaves lifted in a sudden gust of wind from the ground, and his horse neighed frighteningly.

Legolas suddenly heard a faint whooshing sound, then the braking of tiny branches. Gasping, he leaned forwards, let go of the reins, let himself slide to the side, down his horse and slam to the ground.

The air rushed out of his lungs, and his hip landed on a protruding root and sent a sharp pain through his entire being. Frantically, he wanted to get to his feet, but the scared voice of one of the twins made him lay completely still.

"Legolas, dartho talaf!"

He did not know which twin had spoken, but the next second he felt something rush over his head, inches away from his face, and he could feel it touch his hair. Pressing himself flat to the ground for the second time this day, he tried to breathe as shallowly as possible. Dirt entered his mouth and lungs, and he suppressed a cough.

Suddenly, the whooshing sound returned, and once more he felt an object rush over him. From the kind of sound and wind it produced, it must be a huge object. Still trying to suppress his coughing, he heard one of the twins call out to him,

"Legolas, are you injured?"

Not daring to lift his head out of the earth and forest debris, he managed a "No", before the coughing fit finally broke through. He coughed and coughed, his chest heaving. Just as he drew in another deep breath to calm his breathing, he heard Elrohir yell agitatedly,

"Legolas, stay **down**!"

_What does he think I am doing here? Counting the rain worms? I 'am' staying down._

Still, he complied and pressed his body even tighter to the ground, but this time avoiding to breathe in the dry earth. The next second, the whooshing came back, slower this time, but still as near as before.

Irritated and annoyed, Legolas turned his head to the side, into the direction the voice had come from. To his right, the twins stood, faces pale and eyes directed at something that was hanging over Legolas.

Without moving, Legolas asked, "What is it? What happened?"

They did not answer at first, and had he not known better, he would have thought that Elladan actually looked at a loss for words. Which was absolutely impossible, as the older twin was never speechless.

Still, it was Elrohir who finally answered, his voice sounding slightly…lost, "Well, it is…a…log."

_A log? Are they making fun of me?_

His thoughts must have been clearly visible on his face, because Elrohir immediately assured him, "No, Legolas, it truly is a log. But it is…swinging…somehow…over you. And it has…spikes on it."

_Spikes? Ai sure, since when did trees grow spikes?_

But then another thought hit him.

_A trap._

It seemed that Elladan had come to the same conclusion, "Ro, how do we get him out of that trap?"

As an answer, the younger twin began to circle the construction, always mindful to stay out of the swaying log's reach. As it seemed, the log was hanging on thick ropes, which were glistering in a greenish substance. The log itself was spiked to the brim with sharp lookingobjects, which also glimmered green in the sunlight. Furthermore, the log swung from side to side, and it looked difficult, if not impossible, to roll out from under it, as it was so near to the ground and the next trees that it would at least scratch anyone who tried. It was a chance that Elrohir was not willing to take.

Sidling up beside his brother, he sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. Directing his gaze at Legolas, he shrugged. "Well, I guess we could probably stop the swinging. Or we wait till it ends on its own accord. Then Legolas can move out from under it."

"Why do we not simply cut the ropes when the log swings back?"

"We could do that, yes. But the ropes are coated in a substance I do not know. Anything could happen. And what if we are not fast enough and the log sways back and lands on Legolas?"

Elladan smirked, but sobered up instantly when he saw Legolas's annoyed expression. "I think we do not have the time to wait until it stops on its own accord. That could take hours. Legolas, what do you think?"

Still pressing his body flat to the ground, Legolas refrained from shrugging. True, he had no intention of lying here in the dirt, but on the other hand…Licking his lips and taking a shallow breath, he smiled slightly at the worried twins.

"Well, as fun as it is to lie idly in the sun, I would rather keep on searching for Estel. So, cut the ropes."

Elladan chanced a concerned look at his brother, but before one of the twins could debate with him, Legolas spoke up, his voice determined, "Look. It is either cutting the ropes, or riding on without me. And make no mistake, you will ride on, otherwise I will sing until you do. And it will be no pleasant song."

The grimace that appeared on Elladan's face was enough to make Legolas smirk. The twins knew that he could sing wonderfully, but they also knew that, if Legolas wanted to, he could sing as bad as a drunken troll.

Suppressing the grin that threatened to cross his face, Elrohir sighed. "Well, muindor, it seems we have no other choice than to do as he says."

"No, he has caught us in a very vulnerable spot." And with a glance at Legolas, he added, "Legolas, are you sure, mellon nin?"

"Absolutely."

So, the twins took out their long elvish hunting knives and positioned themselves in front of Legolas. For long minutes they only eyed the log and its movements, memorizing the time it needed to complete one swing.

Then, Elladan took a deep breath and raised his knife. Following his brother's lead, Elrohir told Legolas, his eyes still fixed on the log, "Legolas, as soon as I tell you, get up and run towards us. Understood?"

"Yes."

"All right, Dan, on the count of three." Elladan nodded, and inched forwards a bit. His figure was tense as a bowstring, and he could feel his heart beat quickly in his chest. If one of them was only a fraction late, or did not cut the rope completely through, if the wind picked up, or if they had overlooked something…

_Stop it, Dan! All will be well. It always is!_

Elrohir's clear but strained voice floated through the air, drowningout the whooshing of the log, "Min, tâd,…NELEDH!"

Upon the scream of Elrohir, the twins charged forwards, knives raised, and in one fluid motion, they cut the ropes that held the log. It swung back as they had hoped, but then, suddenly, it seemed to turn in the air, and instead of sailing back and clear of them all, it fell down to the ground.

The command Elrohir was just about to give Legolas stuck in his throat, and all he could do was to stare wide-eyed at the disaster that unfolded itself before his eyes. Legolas would be slain by the spike-covered log, and there was absolutely nothing they could do.

Legolas lay on the hard ground, breathing shallowly to avoid lifting his body. He could see the twins take positions, and then hear the younger twin count to three. They charged forwards, and he more felt than heard the cutting of the ropes.

Lifting his head, his heart beating wildly in his chest, he looked up to Elrohir, waiting for the command. It never came. Instead, he saw the frightened eyes of the twins, and the shocked expression on their faces.

_Uh oh…_

The next second, he heard a whooshing and creaking, and he instantly knew that he had to get away from where he was. Without thinking, he pressed his hands to the ground, lifted himself up, sprang to his feet, and darted away.

His feet barely touched the ground, his long blond hair trailed behind him, and he could feel the log come down above him. He would not make it! The log was too close!

_No, hurry!_

Stemming his feet into the ground, he bent his knees, took a deep breath, and propelled himself off the ground. In a mighty jump he cleared the falling log and landed safely on his feet some yards behind the twins.

With a deafening crash the log landed on the ground, and a slight shiver went through the earth. Stunned, the twins had not moved, but now they turned slowly, mouths hanging slightly open.

Grinning, Legolas brushed the earth and forest debris from his clothing, and then picked a brown leaf out of his hear. Smirking at the twins, he commented airily, "Well, that was fun. But next time, Ro, a bit more to the right yes? I nearly landed on top of you."

Silence.

Then, Elrohir took a deep breath, and his stunning expression vanished into relief, then mock annoyance, "Show off."

Shrugging his shoulders and still smirking as if he was a cat that got into the cream, he made his way over to his horse. Mounting, he mocked the twins, "Are you coming, or not?"

And with that, he pressed his knees into his horse's sides, and took off down the path.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Elladan took another look at the log, and then gazed at his brother. "That was close."

"Too close for my liking."

"Still, does he always have to show off?" It was no real annoyance on Elladan's part, rather relief mingled with the aftereffects of tension.

Mounting his horse and waiting until his brother had mounted as well, Elrohir shrugged and answered, "Well, I guess you just cannot spell 'Legolas' without spelling 'ego'."

Grinning, Elladan nodded and while they raced after their friend, he made a mental note to tell Estel of this episode. Surely his human brother would be delighted to hear of the prince's latest misadventure.

--oOo--

"Hador, did you hear that?"

A grumble, then, "What?"

Moving a hand through his already tangled hair, Podlim gestured towards the pile of rocks and stone that lay before them. Shrugging his shoulders nervously, he said, "I thought I heard someone groan in pain."

Giving his companion a queer look, Hador shook his head. "Don't you dare tell him. I don't want to give that white haired bastard any hope. 's more likely than not that the ranger is dead."

Since the last day and the disaster with the trap, the four men had done nothing but stumble over the pile of fallen rocks and debris, looking for the ranger. They had moved a lot of stones, had dug and searched, but so far, they had found nothing.

Dagnir, after venting his anger on Hador, had resumed his usual posture of complete supremacy, and had ordered them to search for the body. Even if it was unlikely that the ranger had survived the collapse, he wanted to be sure. And perhaps send the body back to that accursed elven city, so that the bloody elves could mourn the passing of their pet.

The Gondorian had no doubt that the ranger was nothing more to the elves than a lovely pet that they could play with. After all, where not all elves naughty, prissy beings that thought to be the rulers of the world?

Now, in the late afternoon the day after the collapse, they had given up any hope that the ranger was still alive. Podlim had seen a rock hit his side and back, and they had all watched as the horse had fallen, taking the man with it. Numerous rocks had tumbled down atop of them, and the fact that they had so far neither seen nor heard any sign of the ranger, did not bode well.

Soon, the sun would set in the West, and they would be forced to stop their search. Podlim had no doubt that they would resume it in the morning, but slowly he began to wonder for how much longer they were supposed to lift stones and look for the smashed body of the ranger.

Why look for someone who was dead anyway? Dagnir had what he wanted; yes, maybe he had not been able to torture and taunt the man endlessly, to watch him suffer and then die a slow and gruesome death, but, the ranger was dead, after all. And that had been all he had been hired for. To make sure that Dagnir could kill the ranger.

So, why stay longer than absolutely necessary at the crime scene? And it was a crime, and Podlim knew that sooner or later either the rangers of the north or the elves would come. And he had no intention to be then still here.

Chancing a look at the white haired Gondorian, Podlim sighed. No, there was no way the man would let them just go; satisfied with the ranger's death. There he stood, his white hair dusted, his clothing begrimed. But, the eyes were still gleaming in determination, and Podlim's hopes of getting away were crushed.

_And what if the ranger is still alive? What if I have truly heard something, and that was not my imagination?_

Taking a deep breath and rolling another rock to the side, Podlim thought that if the ranger was still alive, the man would soon wish that he had died under the rock fall.

--oOo--

At first, he did not know what woke him. All he could feel was coldness and the shots of pain that raced through his body. His legs hurt with a vengeance, and his back seemed to be bedded on sharp rocks. His head was pounding in the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his mouth felt dry, and his throat parched.

Where was he? And why was he where he was? Slowly, his mind struggled for awareness. Taking a deep breath and consciously willing the dark shadows that clung to his mind to retreat, Estel gradually reached full wakefulness.

And instantly he wished he had not. It was not only the feeling of the stones and rocks surrounding him that made him wish for unconsciousness once more, but also the fact that he finally knew what it was that had woken him.

_I swear, I will kill this bird!_

Groaning, Estel finally opened his tired eyes. Oh, he was so tired. Although he had been unconscious for the better part of the last day and the night, he still felt exhausted and tired. His limbs ached, his head throbbed, his back and legs shot spasms of agony through his body, and the fact that he was laying on the cold ground, his legs drawn up and his arms folded besides him, did not help his aching body either.

He had to get out. Soon. Now.

Sighing, Estel turned his head and took a look around. Stunned, he suddenly realized that he could indeed see something. The darkness was not complete. Here and there, light entered his stony prison. Sunlight! As it seemed, the rocks and stones that had tumbled down the walls had not completely sealed off the small hole he was lying in.

_If there are small cracks, then maybe I can find a way out of here._

Shifting his body slightly to get a look at the rocks beside him, Estel gritted his teeth. The pain erupting in his back and shoulders was fierce, but the white-hot agony that settled in his right knee was enough to make him gasp for breath.

Ignoring his pain, he concentrated on his surroundings. He knew that he needed to get out of the hole. The previous night had been cold, but the next would probably be even colder, and with every hour that he stayed under the stones, his chances of survival would decrease. His strength would wane, hunger and thirst would weaken his body, and furthermore, he was not entirely sure that he had not sustained any serious internal injuries. As it was, he could only tell that he did not feel as if he had.

Slowly, he rolled over onto his right side, ignoring the low hanging ceiling and the sharp rocks that dug into the palms of his hands. Finally facing the rock wall, Estel was surprised to see not only gray stone, but bright sunlight as well.

The rocks were thick and big, but there were numerous cracks and holes in the wall, and as he craned his neck to get a better look at them, he was relieved to spot green grass beyond the gray. The rock wall could not be that thick, and it seemed Estel had been lucky after all. The tumbling boulders must have stopped near where he lay, and it should not be that difficult to move the stones and free himself.

_Well, if I manage to no let the whole structure collapse, of course. That would be more than inconvenient. _

Sighing once more, Estel touched the rock right before him. It was dry and covered in lichens, but to his disappointment, it did not move. Shifting nearer, he tried again with both hands, but the stone did not budge.

Taking another deep breath, he pushed and pushed until his shoulders shook from exertion. But even then he did not stop, but tried again from another angle, willing the stones to move, to let him out of the depressing dark hole.

But the rocks did not heed his pleas; they neither moved nor shifted, and after long minutes of trying, Estel had not more achieved than new bruises and scratches, bleeding palms and trembling shoulders.

Frustrated, he let his hands sink down to the ground and rested his head on his arms.

_Why do things always have to be so complicated? _

Swallowing dryly, he closed his eyes and decided to try again once the nasty orc in his head took a break. Until then, he would just rest a bit and let his body heal. After all, was sleep not the ultimate treatment?

But with closing his burning eyes, he suddenly felt light and bodiless, as if his body and his soul had been separated somehow. He felt as if he would fly, his head swirled and his stomach rebelled at what his senses told him.

With a snap, he opened his eyes again, and immediately the dizziness ceased and his stomach settled. As it seemed, he could either lay here, unable to sleep and rest, or he could try to get out from under the stones.

_Great, my situation gets better and better._

Sighing and ignoring the stirring dust, Estel once more inched towards the rocks in front of him. From the strength of the light that entered through the cracks between the stones, he could tell that there were only a few hours of daylight left, and he knew that he needed to make haste if he wanted to leave this prison ere night fell.

Clenching his teeth, breathing in deeply and pushing his pain to the back of his mind, he pressed his hands against the hard rocks, strained his muscles, and then…pushed.

_Move, move, you stupid stones. Just…move!_

His shoulders began to tremble, the muscles over his stomach stretched, his arms shook from the pressure. Blood coated his fingers and palms, and he felt his entire body begin to shiver.

_Just a little longer, just a bit longer…_

Suddenly, Estel felt one of the rocks before him move ever so slightly, but it was enough for him. Gritting his teeth so much that it hurt, he pushed and pushed with all his might, and just as he thought his back would snap in two from the strain, anther boulder shifted, then the next and next, and next…

"Thank the Valar."

With a last mighty push, he broke through the rock wall, and weak sunlight entered the hole, streaming over his face and making him in that short moment the happiest man on earth.

Well, except for Dagnir, perhaps.

--oOo--

"Stop, stop!" Jumping over stones and rocks, Dagnir rushed over the pile of stones. He had not only heard something, but seen as well. Just as he had been busy shoveling some smaller boulders out of the way, his ears had picked up the sound of rolling pebbles, and in the next second the unmistakable sound of tumbling rocks had met his ears.

He had dismissed it as the work of his men, but when he had taken a look to make sure, his eyes fell on a spot in the heap of rocks, where none of his men worked. And the sound came from there.

Rushing over, he saw some stones roll over the ground, and then heard the sound of someone groaning in pain. Now, he stood near the place where the rocks had just moved, ordering his men to stop working.

_Was it possible the ranger was still alive? Could it be true?_

His men stopped all movement, and instead listened intently, staring wide-eyed at their leader. Disbelief was etched onto their faces, but Dagnir did not care. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his breath had quickened.

_Oh, please, let this little piece of filth be alive. I would give all I have for that._

Inching forwards, he waved a hand behind his back, signaling his men to stay behind. If the ranger was really still breathing, then he did not want his men to give him away. If the ranger was still among the living, Dagnir wanted him for himself.

Suddenly, another rock shifted, and then the whole side of the pile collapsed, opening a little hole, barely large enough for a grown up man to crawl through. Hectic breathing reached the Gondorian's ears, and then the unmistakable sound of…someone sending a prayer to the Valar.

A huge grin spread over Dagnir's face, and he frantically made his way back to his men, gesturing for them to be silent. Upon reaching the still flabbergasted looking men, he commanded them to get down from the rocks, and take up their positions on the outer rim of the walls that surrounded the clearing.

_Back to the initial plan, it seems. Good, good. Oh, I have the distinct feeling that he will soon pray to the Valar to let him die._

Snickering madly and rubbing his hands in anticipation, Dagnir climbed up the rock wall towards his own position. And there, he waited. Waited for the tiny fly that had just flown into a spider's web. All the fly had to do now, was twist and turn to alert the spider to devour it.

_Oh, this will be so much fun._

--oOo--

Groaning as another wave of pain assaulted his senses, Estel slowly rolled over onto his back. The moving of the rocks had exhausted him, and his entire being hurt in so many places that he was not able to tell which place hurt most.

_Despite my knee, that truly hurts. Sweet Eru, it hurts!_

He did not know what had happened to his knee, but he remembered it hitting the ground hard, and then being crushed between his horse's saddle and the rocky ground. But if he had thought it had hurt then, he was very much mistaken. Because now, it felt as if a warg had mistaken it for a chewing bone and munched on it a little bit.

Lifting a shaking hand to wipe the cold sweat from his face, Estel took a deep breath to steady his ragged breathing and the tremors that still raced through his body. He had always hated cramped places, and this one was definitely doing nothing to placate him.

The walls seemed to press in around him, and the darkness that lingered in the corners seemed alive, sneaking out thin long fingers to grab him, crawl over his body and suck out his warmth and strength.

_Baw, Estel! This is stupid, stupid. Nothing is crawling, there is no one there. Just your imagination, nothing more. Just…get out of here._

Nodding to himself, he determinedly stemmed his feet into the ground, and slowly began to push himself out of the hole. His injured leg buckled under him, and so he had to take his arms and bleeding hands for help.

He made only slow progress and with every inch that he moved, his body sent tendrils of agony through his being. But he kept going. Clenching his teeth and shutting his eyes, he concentrated solely on his breathing.

In, out, in and out. Another inch. In, out, in, out and another inch. With this method, he was nearly out of the hole already, when a thought struck him, and he moaned in frustration.

_This can not be true. Oh, why me? Estel, you are so stupid! _

Groaning in frustration once more and letting his fists fall to the ground to vent some of his annoyance and anger he felt towards himself, Estel stopped moving. He knew that he needed to get back into the hole. Into that dark and small hole under the stones that held his dead horse…and his pack, together with blankets, food, water and…healing supplies.

A sense of dread overcame Estel, and he considered going without his pack, but he knew that that was not an option. The pack was crucial to his survival, and he would need it. Sighing and suppressing his anger, he pressed his hands against the wall, and slowly, very slowly, began to crawl back into the hole.

The sun had nearly set, as he finally felt his shoulders slide over soft grass instead of dead stone, and felt the weak rays of the evening sun on his face. He was out of the hole, out of the rock pile, out of darkness and his horse's grave.

Eagerly filling his lungs with the fresh and soothing air, he just lay there for some minutes, unmoving, unthinking, just being alive. The grass felt so wonderfully soft under his body, it seemed softer than a feather pillow, and it was so cool against his hurting back.

The air was clean and free of dust and debris, and Estel had the feeling that he had never before breathed such refreshing air before. As soon as he had left the hole, his feeling of imprisonment and depression had vanished. He would have felt reborn, had it not been for the pain in his body.

But, with the sinking sun and the fading light, the first cold gusts of wind washed over his exhausted body, and he knew that he could not stay on the ground. He needed to get up; to find shelter, clean and bind his wounds, eat and drink something and then rest.

Sighing inwardly, he grimaced in annoyance, and then pushed his body into a sitting position. Groaning in pain and instantly regretting to have moved at all, he quickly reached out and placed his dirty hands beside him to keep from toppling over. Clenching his eyes shut and ignoring the dizziness that assaulted him, he took a deep breath, and then tried to move his legs.

Agony shot up his right leg, starting at his knee and spreading like fire to the rest of his body. Moaning, he gripped his knee in his hands, and after long moments, the pain subsided to a bearable level.

_This is just wonderful. A hurt knee is a first._

Taking another deep breath and calming his hurting body, he slowly rose to his feet, letting his weight rest on his uninjured leg, and supporting himself against the rocks. Lifting his pack from the ground and scanning the area, he decided that it was best if he returned to his former resting place. There, he could start a fire in the old fire pit, brew some tea, and take care of himself.

Setting his jaw and willing his hurting body to obey his commands, he let go of the rocks, and slowly made his way over to the few bushes and the old camping site. The walk jarred his many wounds, but it showed Estel the severity of his injuries as well.

After only a few steps, the dizziness vanished, the pain in his lungs and chest subsided, and with the movement of stiff muscles and bones, most of the other hurts and pains stopped as well. Relieved that most hurts had been caused by being trapped in that small cave for nearly a day, he let himself sink down onto a blanket, wishing nothing more than to sleep and rest.

But he knew that he could not answer the call of darkness just yet, as there was still a lot to do if he wanted to ever wake up again. Moving a hand through his hair, he sighed, and then reached for his pack.

_Good thing that I have refilled my pack with at least some of the basic herbs. Otherwise I would not be able to tend to my wounds now. I guess some of ada's lectures have stuck with me._

Smiling slightly, he started a fire, boiled some of the water he had left, and brewed an infection stemming tea. Luckily, his healing herbs had survived the cascade of stones, and the pack had not been torn or lost.

Deciding that it would be best to first look after the more serious injuries, he slowly removed his boot, and then, very slowly and gently, lifted his leggings until the right knee was freed. The sight that greeted him made him wince, and he almost wished he had not looked.

His knee was covered in dried blood, cuts and scrapes adorning his whole leg. The immediate area around the knee was blacker than blue, but tinges of green and yellow could be seen as well. The skin was hot to the touch and so swollen that Estel for the shortest of moments feared that his kneecap was shattered. But, to his utter relief, it was not. With clenched teeth and while holding his breath, he moved the kneecap until he was satisfied that it was intact.

Then, with a shaking sigh and trembling hands, he washed away the blood, bound the knee tightly, securing the kneecap in place. He knew that he could do nothing against internal bleeding at the moment, as he had neither the tools nor the herbs. A bleeding inside the knee was likely, judging by the extensive bruising and the swelling, and Estel feared what he could be forced to do.

Once, while traveling with the rangers, one of the men had tumbled down a steep slope, thereby causing internal bleeding in his knee. The man had screamed in pain, tears streaming down his face, but when the healer they had consulted had announced what he would do, the ranger had pleaded not to and even tried to flee.

They had stopped him, of course, but after the horrid procedure, they had wished they had not. It had been nauseating to only watch, and although they had all known that it had been necessary, the whole affair had shaken them all.

Estel wished that he would not have to go through that, and even more, that he would not be forced to do this to himself. It was difficult enough to do it to help someone else, but to do this all alone, and then to himself. It was unthinkable.

Feeling the hollow sensation spread through his stomach and the sweat that started to appear on his brow, Estel shut his eyes and balled his hands into fits.

_This will not happen! It will not happen! This is only fear, nothing real. You are strong; you will deal with it when it is time. Not yet. Not unnecessarily._

Relaxing and feeling his thoughts settle, Estel took a deep breath. Even if he was bleeding inside his knee, there was nothing he could do to stop that.And if worst comes to worst, then he would deal with that when it came. Worrying needlessly helped no one.

Now, with his greatest worry tamed, he felt the numerous smaller injuries spring to roaring life, and with a grimace, he set up some more water to boil. Crushing some calendula into the water and smelling the soothing scent, he shrugged out of his dirty cloak and tunic, ever mindful not to jar his wounds.

In the rest of the weak daylight, he examined his arms and chest, his hands and the rest of his body. Besides many scratches, bruises and lacerations, he had fared well, considering the amount of stones that had fallen on him.

His side, where one of the rocks had hit him before he fell from his horse, was blue and green, but his ribs were not broken and the skin felt normal to the touch. His stomach was soft and not hard, and Estel felt once more relieved that, at least there, he had no internal bleeding.

Not able to feel his back, but sure that it was covered in bruises and scratches as well, he simply smeared some of the herb paste he had made onto the inside of his shirt, and donned it. As soon as he would find a stream, he would clean it, but right now, it was the best thing he could do to avoid infection.

His arms did not look better. Cuts and bruises were nearly everywhere, but they were not severe and would fade in a few days. Actually, they did not even hurt much. His hands, on the other side, had fared worse. His palms were cut and bloody, his fingers swollen, and his nails more than dirty.

He cleaned them as best he could, and then let them rest in the calendula water for some minutes. The herb took some of the pain away, and Estel knew that it would also help against infections.

After bandaging his hands to make sure that no sand or grime would enter the wounds, he finally shrugged into his cloak and settled back. Tiredness washed over him, and he knew that he would fall asleep soon.

The moon had appeared in the sky above him, and the stars had awoken to sail over the heavens. Soon, complete darkness would settle over the lands, and peaceful sleep would take away his pain.

Yawning, Estel hugged the blanket around his shoulders. He had not been able to rescue all of his supplies from the cave, but he was grateful that at least all his weapons, food, water, herbs and two blankets had survived the rockslide.

The rockslide, that was another thing that would not let his mind find rest. Why had there been a rockslide? It had not rained or stormed, there had been little frost and no snow in this region. So, why had the stones and rocks suddenly decided to fall down from the places where they had rested for eons?

A strange feeling suddenly befell him, so as if he should remember something, but try as he might, he could not tell what it was. In his minds eye, he remembered the morning of the rockslide; the chirping bird, breakfast, the sun that climbed over the mountains, the entrance to this clearing, and then … the rocks, the fear, the pain and the darkness.

He remembered his last night with his brothers and friend before they had parted ways. He had felt the sting of uncertainty then, and the sensation that he would never see his family and Legolas again. So, had this feeling been somehow caused by this rockslide? He had never before truly had any premonitions, but mayhap this had been one.

But, he was still alive. He had not been killed, and some stones would not hinder him to leave this clearing. And when he was frank with himself, now that he thought about it, the feelings of dread and abandonment had not left him, instead, they seemed to increase.

_No, I am alive and I will get out of here. Perhaps my feeling of foreboding was caused by this incident, and the feeling only needs some time to vanish. Best not to think about it too much now. I need rest. And sleep. Too much has happened today to ponder such serious thoughts._

Almost against his will, his eyes returned to the pile of gray stone. His heart skipped a beat, and a wave of sadness assaulted him. Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath to control his emotions.

_Thenidair…_

The horse had not only been his companion, but his friend as well. It had been a gift from his foster father on the day he had told him about his heritage. The thought that he was Isildur's heir, the last heir to the throne of Gondor, and the one who probably had to face the wrath of Sauron, had not been easy to handle for him. He had struggled long and heavy with this knowledge, and neither his father, brothers or friends had been able to help him.

The world had looked so bleak, so unfair. Feeling the urge to be alone, to not see or hear his family, he had taken his new horse and stayed in the woods surrounding his home for days on end. And in that time, there had been so many questions, so many worries.

And the only one who had listened had been Thenidair. Of course, Thenidair was only a horse, but elvish horses, once accepting their master, were perceptible and open to the emotions of their master.

The steed had protected him when he had not been able to, had watched over his troubled sleep, had taken him wherever he wanted and had made him smile. He had not been able to accept the reassurances of his family, but the unconditional friendship of the horse had helped him through the hard time.

Estel had never before felt such a strong bond to a horse, and the thought that his loyal shadow was now buried under masses of stone, his body crushed and shattered, made his eyes water. It truly felt as if he had just lost one of his dearest friends.

Cold wind blew into his face, and when the tears fell, he did not know whether they were caused by his heartache or the stinging wind. Estel did not care, but lay back on the soft grass, closed his eyes, and let the tears fall freely. Tomorrow, he would be strong. Tomorrow, he would find a way out of this clearing, and then make his way to the ranger camp.

_Aye, with the next dawn, I will be on my way, and soon, this will be nothing more than a bad dream._

But he knew that he would never be able to forget the last scared neighing of his horse, or the feeling of the stones that made it stumble, fall and die.

_Tbc…_

_Chapter 14 is called "Fear that stops the heart"._

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**Sooo, hihi. Estel is alive, but he is trapped and injured and not alone. The twins and Legolas are still some leagues away, and night is creeping up on Estel. Mh, whatis hiding inthe shadows, I wonder?**

**Let me know what you think of this chapter, will you? Please, please, please? Otherwise I chase Legolas after you, and he will sing like a drunken troll:o)**


	15. 14 Fear that stills the heart

**A/N 1: **

_Characters (OCs):_

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

_Elvish terms (S):_

Ada: Father, Daddy

Muindor: Brother by blood

Saes: Please

**Beta:** Chris. Hannon le.

* * *

_There is much in the world to make us afraid. There is much more in our faith to make us unafraid. _

_Frederick W. Cropp_

_

* * *

_

Chapter 14: Fear that stops the heart

Slowly, the golden sun set behind the distant horizon, the sky became darker, turning from light blue to pink, lilac and then the deep blue of night. Tiny stars awoke to life, shining like diamonds in a sea of black velvet. The eventide fell over the lands, and sleep trickled over bird and mouse.

The nickering of a horse floated softly through the gloaming, followed by a gentle elven whisper. A small fire illuminated the three elves who sat around it, casting flickering shadows over their concerned faces.

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas had ridden through the forest for a few more hours, ever watchful of the traps that they thought to be there. They had not tripped over another one, but they still felt that the woods were not safe.

To their disappointment, the incident with the log had delayed them greatly, and so they had decided to set up camp and rest for some hours before continuing. They knew that they were near Estel, but as they did not know where he was precisely, they did not dare venture further during the night, for fear of passing him by.

A soft voice broke the stillness. "Here, Ro, Dan. The tea is ready."

"Hannon le, Legolas." Taking the offered cup of steaming tea, Elrohir held it between his hands, so as if to warm them. A rather strange sight, as the elves did not feel the cold as the humans did, and this night was not even especially cold.

As it seemed, Elladan had the same thoughts running through his mind, as he asked worriedly, "Ro? Are you well?"

Nodding but shaking his head in the same moment, Elrohir sighed deeply. Gazing into the burning fire, he did not answer immediately. Just when Legolas thought that his friend would not answer at all, Elrohir said quietly, "Dan, do you feel anything?"

"Feel what?"

"That is what I mean, muindor. Do you feel…the warmth of the fire?"

Now truly confused and utterly worried, the elder twin leaned forwards to look his brother into the eyes. "Ro?"

A shudder seemed to race through Elrohir's body, and his next words shocked his two companions deeply. "I cannot feel the fire, Dan. I feel…nothing."

Fear and worry made his words shake, and Elladan had to restrain himself not to grab his brother and force him for words that were not riddles.

"Elrohir, what do you mean, you cannot feel the fire? What are you talking about, muindor? Seas, Ro, talk to me. Saes!" His voice had become pleading, and his face was only inches away from his brother's.

Swallowing dryly, Elrohir avoided his gaze from the flickering flames, and instead locked his gray eyes with his brother. Fear had distorted his handsome features, and his voice was barely a whisper. "It begins anew. The poison, it is awake.". it's quite a while that the poison showed itself. -->

Legolas did not know how to react. He was confused, yes, and worried. But he could not understand the amount of fear that the twins showed. They had told him the venom had made them sick to the stomach, surely that was nothing to be utterly afraid of? They were elves, after all, and a little sickness did not bring them to fall.

Over the crackling fire, he heard Elladan ask softly, his voice concerned, "What is it you feel? What do you feel exactly?"

This time, the younger twin answered promptly, his eyes still locked with his brother, "I cannot feel the warmth of the fire on my skin, or the wind on my face. I cannot feel my lips moving, or the breath in my lungs. I feel…nothing. Dan, I…I cannot move."

Suddenly, as if the words had broken a spell, the cup of steaming tea slipped from the elf's fingers, falling to the ground and drenching the forest floor with sweet smelling tea. Elladan was near his brother in an instant. Feeling his brother's forehead and scooting even nearer he spoke urgently,

"Elrohir? Can you hear me? Please, say something. Ro?"

But Elrohir did not speak; his lips moved but no sound escaped. His eyes were fixed on his brother, but his whole body seemed stiff and limp at the same time. Then, very very slowly, the elf swayed where he sat and then toppled backwards.

With quick reflexes, Elladan caught his brother before he fell to the ground, his hands holding tightly to his brother's body. With eyes wide open, Elrohir lay in his brother's arms, unable to move, speak or do something.

Now near to a panic, Elladan pleaded with his twin, "Ro, saes. Ro? Can you hear me? I am here, I am here, and I won't leave you. I am here for you, muindor. Listen to my voice and stay with me, Ro. Please."

Settling his brother against his chest and constantly rubbing the limp arms and hands, Elladan did not even notice Legolas approaching and then kneeling down near them. Only when the prince reached out and placed a hand on Elladan's shoulder did he look up.

His eyes werefull of worry and fear. He did not know what was happening to his twin, and he did not know what he could do to stop whatever was happening. How was he supposed to help his brother if he did not even know what was causing this…illness?

Pleading with his eyes for help, Elladan gently tucked a strand of his brother's dark hair behind his ear, and then held his brother tightly against his chest, as if letting go of him meant giving up on him.

Softly, so as not to startle the clearly distraught twin, Legolas spoke to him, pronouncing each word carefully,

"Elladan, I do not know what is happening here, but please, stay calm. Your brother needs you now. Do you understand?"

At first, there was no reaction, but then Elladan nodded. He did not protest when Legolas gently pried his arms open and then took his brother away from him to lay the motionless form on a soft blanket near the fire.

Making sure that Elladan was still with him and had not succumbed to shock, Legolas examined his limp friend. Elrohir's eyes were open, his gaze alert. When he found no injuries, Legolas placed another blanket over the still form to keep the elf from being exposed to the elements.

To his surprise, Elrohir's eyes followed his every movement, as much as they could from the twin's position on the ground. A few moments later, Elladan knelt on his brother's other side and took one of the slender, limp hands in his own.

Legolas looked down on the elf. The face was pale and the skin cool to the touch, but the fact that the eyes were open and not closed in pain, made his heart lighter. Smiling confidently without feeling that way, he asked gently,

"Elrohir, can you still see us? Can you blink?"

At first there was nothing, but then Elrohir blinked slowly, as if it cost him much strength to do so. But it was enough to let relief flood through Legolas's veins; sighing deeply, he was dimly aware that Elladan thanked the Valar for this little blessing.

Smiling down on the clearly frightened elf, Legolas let his fingers trace over his friend's cheek, and then spoke once more,

"Ro, are you in pain? Blinking once means yes, two times means no."

Legolas had never before felt that relieved to see an elf blink two times in rapid succession.

"Good. Can you feel anything? Anything at all?"

Again, Elrohir blinked two times. This admission did not hinder Elladan to squeeze his brother's hand tighter, and Legolas to stroke his cheek with his slender fingers.

"That is all right, mellon nin. You will see, it will pass, I am sure of that. This cannot last forever, and soon you will feel again. Trust me, Ro. It will pass."

A flicker of amusement seemed to spark in the motionless elf's eyes, and Legolas knew that Elrohir did not believe a single word he had said. But, what should he do? Should he tell his friend that his stomach churned in fear? That he had no idea what was going on? That he feared this poison would take the life of his friend? Should he tell him that he felt helpless and truly scared?

_No, I cannot tell him that. And Elladan needs me. If this is the poison, than Elladan will soon fall victim to it as well. They need me now, and I will not abandon them._

Once more smiling down at his friend, Legolas then withdrew from the younger elf's line of vision, and tilted his head to the side, gesturing Elladan to follow him. He hated to leave his friend lying there on the ground, but he needed to talk to Elladan, and he did not want to upset and scare the younger twin even more than he already was.

After another reassuring squeeze of his brother's limp hand and a quick smile, Elladan stood up, and slowly made his way over to Legolas , his eyes never leaving his brother.

"Elladan!"

"A..aye?"

When Legolas was sure that he had the elf's attention, he spoke urgently, but calmly. Once again, he wanted the one he was talking to to understand what he was saying. He needed some answers, and he needed them now, before the poison affected Elladan as well.

"Elladan, the last time the poison attacked, who was the first to feel it? You or Elrohir?"

The Noldor seemed to think about this question a moment, and then pointed at his brother. "It was Ro who felt it first. He, …he felt sick and so we stopped and then he…well he…"

"All right Dan, it's all right. Did you know the poison would come back, that it would attack once again? Did your father say anything about this possibility?"

"Well, yes. Ada said he was not sure if the poison had already left our body or not. He said it could come back, but…but he never spoke of something like this. Legolas, what if he does not…what if he cannot return to us? What if this paralysis does not stop?"

Fearful and worried eyes turned to Legolas, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He was no healer, he was a warrior. He had no experience with poisons other than those of the spiders of Mirkwood or the poison the orcs used. Elladan and Elrohir were the healers. They usually dealt with these situations. They…or Estel.

_Oh my friend, how I wish you were here now. I need you, mellon nin._

Not showing any of his feelings, but forcing his face to appear confident and determined, he placed his hand on Elladan's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "All will be right, my friend. You will see, the poison has not defeated you the first time, and it will not do so now. You are stronger than the venom, and I will be at your side. You shall overcome."

And for the first time since the poison had resurfaced, Elladan smiled slightly. Then he nodded his head, Legolas removed his hand, and they made their way to Elrohir's side. They both wanted the elf to see them and feel that his brother and friend were with him.

But when Elladan had taken a few steps, his legs suddenly buckled under him and without a sound he fell to the ground, and did not move any longer.

"Elladan!"

--oOo--

A light brown horse rushed through the forest; it hurried over streams, jumped fallen trees and broke through bushes and dense underbrush. Sweat trickled down its flanks, and white foam stood around its muzzle. But the horse had no intention to slow its step or even stop. It felt the urgency of its rider, and would do everything in its power to reach their destination as soon as possible.

Gandalf the Grey, or Mithrandir for the Elves, held tightly to the reins as they sped through the forest that surrounded the valley of Imladris. The day before he had crossed the ford, and with the falling of dusk he would reach the Last Homely House.

Under normal circumstances the journey would take him longer, but the horse he rode seemed to practically fly over the ground, and Gandalf was glad to have taken this loyal horse with him when he had left Bree.

He still did not truly know why the Lord of Imladris had searched for him, but the message had been short and urgent, and he had not been able to shake off the feeling that his help was needed.

_More likely than not the young ones are in trouble again. You cannot let them out of your sight for a minute without them causing mischief._

But Gandalf knew that it was not so easy this time. No, the messenger bird that had reached him had practically been dead on its wings, and the message itself had been written in haste. Something was wrong, and Gandalf feared for his friends.

Feeling his cloak tangle in some overhanging branches and then being ripped free again as the horse raced on, Gandalf tried to see into the future. As an Istari, a wizard send to Middle-earth from the Valar themselves, this power was a gift to him. But, he could not use it as Elrond could. Where the Lord of Imladris could actually see pictures of the future, visions and manifestations, he could only feel the future. He sensed emotions and stirrings in the air.

And his feeling told him that something dreadful would happen that could very well change the future of all Middle-earth. And Gandalf was more than certain that this change would not be for the better.

Whispering to his horse words of encouragement, he leaned forwards even more to avoid the biting wind. And so horse and rider sped on through the green forest, eager to finally find out the reason behind the possible doom of the world.

--oOo--

"Why is he not just killing him, so that we can leave this cursed place?"

Podlim was nervous. The whole night they had crouched behind boulders and cold rocks, practically unmoving. They had not been allowed a fire, as it would have given away their position to all that looked. But the night had been cold, and the fact that Podlim had seen the merry fire down in the clearing had done nothing to placate his bad mood.

With the last rays of the sun, they had seen the ranger crawl out from under the rock pile, and had then watched him treat his wounds and fall asleep. And…that had been all they had done. To Podlim's, and he was sure to the amazement of his companions as well, Dagnir had made no move. He had neither gone down to the ranger, nor spoken to him.

_Why has he not finished him off? Yes, yes, I know he wants to see him suffer, but…argh. Can he not just get it over with? I am freezing my …_

His thoughts were interrupted as suddenly a voice spoke up from his left.

"Podlim!"

The voice echoed slightly from the rock wall, and at first the man was not sure who had spoken. Then, the voice was accompanied by some rolling pebbles and some soft cursing, and the next moment Hador appeared from the shadows.

"Aye, what is it? Has Dagnir called for us to come?"

"No, he has not." Hador sounded slightly out of breath, but that was not unusual, as Podlim had chosen a spot quite high in the stone walls. As a poacher, he was not only used to setting up traps, but he was skilled with a bow as well. Of course, Hador was the hunter in their group, but that did not mean that Podlim would not be able to use his own preferred weapon.

_And furthermore, the further away from the white-haired Gondorian, the better._

Some more curses, and then the hunter crouched down beside him, stretching out his legs and licking his lips. After breathing deeply and catching his breath, the man turned and looked down into the clearing.

"Still sleeping, the boy. I bet Dagnir will wake him soon."

"What makes you so sure? He has not done anything yet. He could have killed him during the night, and no one would have stopped him. So, why waiting?"

To Podlims's surprise, Hador grinned, his eyes turning to his companion. "Have you not heard? Dagnir waits for the morning. He wants the little puppy down there to be fully awake and aware of what is happening. Playing with a half dead is no fun."

This new information did nothing to calm Podlim. Was it not enough that he had perhaps already killed some elves with his traps? That he had followed this crazy Gondorian, and that he had helped trap a ranger? Was it not enough that he had attracted the wrath of elves and rangers to himself?

_By all that I hold dear, and that is not much, when this is over, I will have to leave this area and never come back. Curse them all! This region was perfect for my business._

Disguising his uneasiness, Podlim ran a hand through his hair and nodded in the direction of the still dark clearing under him.

"How will he kill him then if he does not want to just…well, just kill him?" Podlim of course knew of the poison, but he had not been there to see its effects, and furthermore, he knew nothing of the manner the venom worked in.

Drawing up his nose and shrugging, Hador answered, his voice tinged with either disgust, or glee, the difference not clear, "He will let the ranger suffer till the end. From what I've heard, the poison will kill him sooner or later. Bet later. That white-haired madman will not kill the ranger, oh no. He will sit by and watch him being killed."

The strange glimmer in his companion's eyes confused and scared Podlim, but it was nothing he had not seen before. He was a criminal after all, and although his conscience piped up from time to time, it only did so to his own benefit. Others did not matter to him.

Nevertheless, he could not stop himself from asking curiously, "Sit by and watch him being slowly killed by what?"

The answer did not truly surprise the poacher. Since the little 'reminder', the hunter loathed Dagnir more than anything else. His pride and honor had been hurt, and Podlim had the feeling that Hador would find a way to get his revenge. One way or another, and if this meant that he had to destroy Dagnir's plans, then that had to be so.

"Or by whom. We will see, Podlim, we will see."

--oOo--

The sun rose behind the Misty Mountains and let its weak light shine down into the clearing. The mist that had gathered during the night began to lift, and soon it sailed towards the sky and up the mountain's slopes.

The frost on the grass glittered and glimmered like liquid mithril in the morning sun, and where the sun had already reached the ground, the tiny ice particles began to yield and melt in the warmth.

With the first sunny rays that touched his face, Estel's body awoke. His mind was slower, and so it took him some moments to realize where and when he was. That was, until his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly and reminded him that he had not eaten much during the last days.

Relishing in the peace and quiet of the moment a bit longer, Estel grimaced as a sound reached his ears.

_Truly, why have the Valar created such annoying little birds?_

Sighing, he sat up, ignoring the signals of pain his body sent him. To his relief, most pains were now dull and not as piercing as they had been the night before. Stretching his limbs and yawning tiredly, he took a look around.

The fire had burned down, but the embers still glowed faintly red; the sun shone into the clearing, the sky was of a pale blue, and in the distance he could still spy the white moon. And when his gaze traveled to the other side of the clearing, he could still see the impenetrable wall of rock and debris that trapped him in this place.

_Well, not for much longer. I bet it will take me the whole day to climb out, but with the coming of dusk I should be on the other side._

Yawning once more and scratching his chin, he got to his feet and began to pack his bed roll, blanket and other things away. It would not do to tarry, and the sooner he was out of this place, the better. The clearing already held sad memories, and his heart wished for him to leave.

Lifting his pack on his shoulder and buckling his sword belt, he took some tentative steps. His knee did not hurt as much as the evening before when he had walked around while packing. But with the weight of pack and weapons, things could be different.

As he had feared, as soon as his right leg held his whole weight, a piercing pain erupted behind his kneecap and he had to stifle a moan. Shaking his head and pressing his lips together, he tried again to put weight on his leg, and this time he did not lift his leg again when the pain exploded.

The leg trembled and wanted to buckle under him, but he held his weight on it and did not let go. Long moments he stood there, waiting for the pain to vanish. Then, slowly, it subsided, leaving the leg weak and trembling slightly, but standing nevertheless.

A small smile spread over his face, and Estel took a deep breath. He had known that the pain would reduce sooner or later. The muscles in the knee had been strained and pulled, and he had not used the leg for more than a day. It was not surprising that it would need a bit of time to adjust to the weight and the pressure he put on it.

And that the pain would subside, he knew from experience. He was a ranger of the north after all, and injuries were not new to him.

_Much to the dislike of my family._

Satisfied that his legs would hold him and the fact that he would now finally get out of this place, he rearranged the pack on his back and walked over to the pile of rocks and debris. With the sun on his back and a soothing breeze on his face, he had already crossed half of the distance when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

An ice cold shiver crawled over his back, his breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a few beats.

He was not alone.

--oOo--

With the waking of morning and the rising of the sun, Dagnir's time to act had finally arrived. It had been difficult for him to sit still and hold his happiness and eagerness under control the last night. Every time the ranger had stirred in his sleep or turned over under the blankets, Dagnir felt the unquenchable desire to take out his sword, go down the mountain, and slit the little traitor's throat.

It had been a hard battle not to do this, and the night had seemed to last for an eternity. But when the horizon had started to glow, a faint pink and light blue tinting the edges of the Misty Mountains, Dagnir knew that the long wait was finally over.

His eyes, which had not once left the sleeping form of the ranger during the long and dark hours of the night, had seen him wake and then pack. It had filled him with glee to see the pain on the man's face when he had stood on his bad leg, and the fact that the ranger moved stiffly had added to his happiness.

Grinning like the maniac that he was, he had made his way over to a more secluded area on the rock wall and silently waited for the ranger to cross the clearing. Oh, he had no intention of letting the man go; no, instead, he would make sure that the ranger did not leave the clearing. His men were positioned and had their orders. They would do what he had asked of them and therewith ensure his victory.

And now, it was time to let the ranger know that he was already dead. It would just take a bit of time for him to face death.

--oOo--

"Hello ranger!"

The scratchy voice resounded from the walls of gray stone, echoed in the clearing and seemed to penetrate his whole body. Estel did not dare to breathe or move; his body stood still as a stature, and only his eyes raced from left to right and up and down the rocks.

He knew that voice, knew it perhaps better than the voices of his fellow rangers. But, oh by the Valar, he had wished to never hear it again. And furthermore, he knew that it was not even possible. The man who belonged to this evil voice was dead! Estel knew that he was dead! For many weeks he had seen him in his nightmares, had seen his own dagger strike him and then the long fall down the dark chasm.

_He cannot be alive. I am mistaken, I must be mistaken!_. -->

"Have you missed me…scum?"

A cold shiver trickled down his spine, and the tiny hairs on is neck stood on end. His heart felt suddenly too big, and it pounded heavily against his chest. His breath came shaky and shuddering. This could not be true. Dangir was dead.

_He is dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead. I have killed him. This cannot be him._

His roaming eyes saw nothing but stone, and for a short moment he thought that, maybe, he was imagining things. Perhaps he had sustained a more severe concussion than he had thought? Maybe he was still buried under tons of stone, and the oxygen was short and muddling his brain. Maybe….

"Oh come now, ranger. Don't you know your old friends anymore?"

The voice sounded mocking, and Estel suddenly knew that he was not mistaken. Because, although the voice was echoing from the walls around him, and it sounded slightly scratchier than he remembered it, it was still the same voice. A voice that from time to time still haunted him in his nightmares. A voice he would never forget.

A whisper escaped Estel's lips and was carried away on the light breeze. "Dagnir."

Slowly, he turned around, scanning all the rock walls around him. But no matter how sharp his eyes were and how eager he was to see his enemy, Estel saw nothing and no one. All he could see were gray rocks and stone; the clearing was empty and lay silent around him. Had it not been for the bodiless voice and the feeling of being watched, he would have sworn to be alone.

The wind picked up and whipped his cloak around his form, but Estel did not move. Numerous questions filled his head, and he almost feared to hear the answers. Where was the white-haired man? If he was truly still alive, why was he here? Why had he come back? Was he alone? Was he responsible for the rockslide? Had he open-eyed walked into a trap? And since when was the man around? Why had he not sensed that he was in danger?

Suddenly, his musings were once more interrupted by that mocking voice, "Heeeelloooo ranger! Do you have nothing to say? Don't you want to greet old friends?"

The taunt resounded from the walls, but finally Estel was able to make out its source, or at least, the general direction. The voice was coming from his left, high up the rock wall. Scanning the area, he saw nothing, but that did not mean that no one was there. Numerous cracks and fissures lined the stones; shadows lingered there and provided perfect shelter from prying eyes.

Feeling his fear dissolve into anger and frustration, Estel raised his chin high, and with all the authority he could muster, shouted, "Show yourself!"

"Oh, but you already know who I am, don't you? So ranger, after you have killed me, what are you going to do now?"

Estel was speechless for a moment. There was no mistaking it anymore. Dagnir had –somehow- returned from the dead to haunt him. He had trapped him here in this isolated place, far from help and rescue.

Despite himself, he could not refrain from shouting, "You should be dead! Show yourself!"

"If that is your wish, it shall be granted."

With wide eyes Estel scanned the rocks before him, and then to his utter astonishment, he saw a movement high up the wall. A white shimmer in a sea of gray, and when the sun reflected on the white hair of the man, and he could see the evil smirk that adorned the pale face, Estel had all the proof he needed.

_By Elbereth, he is alive. Oh, I am as good as dead._

His body felt suddenly lighter than air itself, and his head started spinning. His legs wanted to buckle under him and his knees wobbled. He did not register it, but he shook his head ever so slightly, denying what his eyes told him.

How could that be? How could this man be still alive? He had fallen down an abyss so dark that no one ever went there. And he had been stabbed by his own sharp dagger. That man should have been dead. Died three long years ago!

As if Dagnir had read his thoughts, he continued, and although he was not shouting anymore, his voice carried effortlessly down to the ranger.

"I guess you are asking yourself why I am still alive. Do you want to know, scum? Do you really want to know? Ah, of course you want to know, I can see it in those frightened eyes of yours."

Dagnir made a pause, relishing in the sight that Estel presented to him. He had so long waited for this moment to come, and now that it had arrived, he wanted to make it unforgettable. Finally, all those long years of waiting and scheming had lead him here, and he simply knew that this was worth all the hardship and pain that he had endured. He had lured the fly into the spider's web. And oh, how it was wriggling!

His next words were even more taunting. "I am not dead, my dear ranger, because your aim with a dagger is poorer than that of a babe. You missed my heart, you know."

Estel heard Dagnir speak, but the words only slowly registered with him. The shock of seeing the man who had kidnapped, tortured and then nearly killed him, alive and only a few yards away from him, was more than he could comprehend at the moment.

But deep inside, he knew that this was real that Dagnir had returned to kill him, that he was trapped and defenseless, that he was alone and far from help and that Dagnir was probably even crazier than the last time he had seen him.

Caging his shock and fear inside his heart and breathing deeply, Estel wiped his emotions from his face and stared up at the man. Maybe he was surprised, maybe he was even afraid, but that did not mean that he would play along with the man. He was a ranger, he was stronger than he had been the last time he had faced Dagnir. He had not given in then, and he would not do so now.

Defiantly, he locked his eyes with those of Dagnir and spoke calmly, his voice not betraying him, "You fell down the chasm, and if you have not grown wings, I would like to know what saved your wretched soul from sinking into the shadow you belong in."

Estel thought to see the grin of the man falter for a moment, but before he could be sure whether he had seen it or not, Dagnir answered. But this time, his voice shook slightly in barely suppressed anger.

"Oh, I fell deep. But not to the bottom as you had planned. A rock outcropping stopped my fall and saved me. I thought you would come look for my body, but no one came. You left me there to bleed to death, to slowly rot and decay. When I realized that no one would come, I climbed to the bottom. I left more blood and skin on the chasm's wall than you shed during our time together. When I reached the next human settlement, I was more dead than alive. Days without water or food and so little blood in my body that not even the insects bit me. Do you know what days without water do to a body, do to a throat? No? Oh, do not worry. I will make sure you'll find out soon enough. Let's say in three or four days?"

The grin on Dagnir's face widened and with obvious glee he continued, "I survived, and now, now I want my revenge. And make no mistake, scum, I will get it."

So that was how the man had survived. It was unbelievable, and had Estel not seen Dagnir with his own eyes, he would not have believed it. But here he was, breathing and talking and very much alive.

Frowning, Estel felt that there was more, and that Dagnir wanted nothing more than to tell his story. He did not truly wish to hear the tale, but from experience he knew that not knowing was even worse. Therefore, he asked, arms outstretched to his side,

"So, why don't you come down and we end this like men? Are you afraid? Do you fear I could beat you like I have done before?"

This taunt obviously hit a tender spot, because instantly the Gondorian's face reddened, and he leaned forward as far as the rocks would let him. Anger filled his voice as he hissed,

"You did not beat me, ranger. Those nasty elves rescued you. Oh, but not this time, not this time. This time you are all alone and all mine. You will die!"

The fear that he had meant to have caged used this spark to spring to life. Estel knew that he had no real chance of escaping, and that his chance of survival was slim to none. All Dagnir had to do was sit there and wait till hunger or thirst killed him. No one would find him here, as there was no one looking for him.

Still, he was not ready to accept this fate, not as long as there was a sliver of hope that he could escape.

"Dagnir, if you want to kill me, come down and we will fight!"

The next words chilled his blood.

"Oh, yes, you do not know yet. You are already dead, ranger. The poison in your body will kill you."

Poison? Where was that coming from? He was not poisoned, he was not even ill, he was not…

_The flu! No, not the flu…the poison. Valar in Valinor, what had Dagnir done?_

Estel looked up into the red gleaming eyes of Dagnir and knew that his days were numbered. And he knew that it did not matter any longer if he found a way out of the clearing. He was poisoned and he did not doubt that it would kill him.

The only question that remained was, how quickly it would kill him.

_End of chapter 14_

_Tbc…_

_Chapter 15 is called "Sleep of death"_

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**Soooo, another chapter. What do you think, enough angst? Yes? Well, then do not read the next chapter, because the next one will be full of angst, pain, suffering, denial and…surprises. What will Dagnir do to Estel? Will Gandalf reach Imladris in time? Can Legolas help the twins, or is he in even greater peril then they are? Love to hear from you. I know your finger itches to press the review button, so, come on, do it! Till next time:o)**


	16. 15 Hello, ranger!

**Chapter 15 "Hello, ranger!"**

**A/N 1: **

_Characters (OCs):_

_P_odlim (Quick-paw): The _P_oacher

_H_ador (Spike- or Arrow-carrier): The _H_unter

_M_orgwath (Night's shadow): The _M_urderer/Killer

Dagnir (Killer, Vanquisher): The former captain and the one pulling the strings

_(I know, of course, that humans would not have Sindarin names, but I just couldn't resist. It's fun!)_

**Beta: Chris. Hannon le !**

**A/N 2: Hello all! I love all your reviews and I read them again and again to make sure that I have not dreamt, but this time I have no time to reply. So sooory! But next time, I will reply again. Promise. Just to answer a quick question: Estel knows of his heritage, he wears the ring of Barahir, he is 24 in this story, and the story is AU in so far as I think that he has already met Gandalf (that it is very unlike that he did not meet hin during The Hobbit is unlikely as well, but okay :-)). I simply call him Estel, because I do not like Strider, and it would be odd to change from Estel to Aragorn just that. But, in the next chapters I will do that due to the story, so consider yourself warned for the confusion that will surely errupt. :o)

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_"What is worse? To fight yout enemy, or to let your enemy fight you without moving a muscle?"_

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Chapter 15: "Hello, ranger!"

_How did I get into this mess? And how do I fix this? Oh, sweet Eru, how do I get out of this one?_

Estel seemed unable to move. His legs trembled slightly, his hands hung uselessly at his side, and his whole body was rooted to the spot. Dagnir was still alive; he was here, he had trapped him, he wanted to kill him, he had…poisoned him.

This could not be true, it just could not be true! When had he consumed the poison, and how? His mind went desperately over the information Dagnir had given him, and the only explanation Estel was able to find was, that he had consumed the poison while still with his brothers and Legolas. And that meant…that his brothers and friend were probably poisoned as well.

The thought made him lightheaded and he swayed on his feet. His brothers could be poisoned, and Legolas. Oh Valar, Legolas was on his way to Mirkwood, and he was all alone in the wilderness. If he was poisoned, then he could very well be dead by now. No one who was not healthy and strong survived the high and dangerous paths in the Misty Mountains.

This could not be true, and Estel's mind screamed at him to deny what he had heard. But in his heart, he knew that it was true. The illness that he had lived through had been no normal flu, and he had known it even back then. Alas, he had not believed it and had pressed on to reach the ranger camp. Oh, why had he not turned around and gone home? Why?

But there was no time to ponder this now. He had to stay in the here and now with his thoughts if he wanted to survive. Inwardly, Estel summed up his situation.

_I am poisoned, and I do not know the effects. I am trapped inside this clearing. Dagnir will not let me escape, that much is certain. I am injured, but not live threateningly. The only entry and exit is the passage that is now blocked. And my brothers and Legolas are probably ill as well. Well, that does not look good._

Suddenly, he was ripped out of his musings by the voice of Dagnir, who still stood high up in the mountains. "Hey little ranger! What is it? You are not afraid, are you?"

If Estel had been able to throttle Dagnir, he would have done it. But he could not, and the thought that this man had all the advantages made him not only afraid, but angry as well. Was he not Estel, and Strider and Aragorn? He was no weakling! He was a ranger and a warrior!

_To Mordor with you. I will get out of here, now!_

Sending an angry glare in Dagnir's direction, he took a deep breath and started resolutely in the direction of the blocked passage. Dagnir was only one man, how should he stop him? Yes, he could shoot him or engage him in a fight, but Estel had the feeling that Dagnir would not do that. After all, had he not told him that he was already poisoned?

He had only taken a few steps when Dagnir's scratchy voice resounded from the rock walls, "Morgwath!"

Suddenly, the whistle of an arrow filled the air, and with a thud a black fletched arrow embedded itself in the ground directly before his feet. Shocked, Estel jumped back. But it was a movement his shaky legs and hurting knee were not fond of, his leg buckled under him, and with a gasp of pain he fell heavily to the ground.

Loud and harsh laughter filled the clearing, and it sounded so disgusting and embarrassing to Estel that he flinched.

_Great._

Dagnir laughed and laughed and seemed unable to stop himself. His voice filled the clearing, echoed from the walls and was so loud that Estel's keen ears began to hurt. But that was not why he did not rise to his feet. Rather, it was the realization that it did not matter. The arrow and the shout had shown him one thing. Dagnir was not alone, and Estel had no idea how many men were in the man's service. He should have known it.

He let his head hang, rose into a sitting position and rested his elbows on his thighs. His situation had just gotten from bad to worse, and hopelessness filled his heart. Keenly he felt the absence of his brothers and friend and wished for nothing more than their company. If this was his end, then he did not want to face it alone.

"Hey, ranger! What is the matter? Oh, poor boy, did you really think I was alone? Oh, how stupid of you. Really, have you learned nothing of our last encounter? You remember the one with the elves and the chasm. Did I ever tell you how much fun it was to see you being shot by the elf?"

This hit a very tender spot. While he had been a captive of Dagnir, the elves of Rivendell under the command of his father had attacked Dagnir and his men. During the negotiation, Dagnir had used him as a shield, and his father had accidentally shot him in the arm. Elrond had needed many weeks, hugs and reassurances from Estel to believe that his son had no ill feelings for him. It had not been Elrond's fault, after all.

But, the way the former captain spoke of his foster father made his heart beat wildly. How dare this man speak thus? Feeling anger sweep over him, he got to his feet and turned to look Dagnir in the eye.

"Do not speak thus of him, for he is all that you can never be."

But Dagnir only grinned and mocked, "Oh, is that so? Well, I guess then I should be very glad. Who wants to be a prissy, lousy, nosy and arrogant elf? Poor ranger!"

The anger Estel felt did not dissipate, and in this very moment he felt like taking his bow and shooting an arrow right through Dagnir's black heart. But he knew that he could not do that, as the other men that Dagnir had taken with him would surely stop him before he had even notched his arrow. Instead, he demanded,

"Is that all you can do? Stand there and mock me? Are you too scared to come down and face me? As it seems, you do not even know my name, so what do you know about elves?"

"Oh, make no mistake, little ranger. I will come down, but not now. You see, I want to see what my poison has planned next. As to your name…what was it? Something like 'Rider', no wait 'Walker'? No, ah yes, now I remember. 'Strider', was it not?" Dangir smirked down at him, "Well, not a very suitable name now, is it, boy?"

And with that, the white haired man turned around and vanished from Estel's sight.

"Dagnir! Dagnir!"

But it was of no use, the man had disappeared from his sight, and Estel knew that he could do nothing to stop him from whatever it was he was doing. For some more moments he stared at the spot where Dagnir had stood, then he sighed deeply.

What was he to do now? Should he try to leave? No, that was no option, as he had found out earlier. But, what then? Should he simply wait here for the poison to act and kill him slowly? He did not want to do that, he hated to be unable to do anything.

But suddenly, all the anger left him, and the strength he still possessed vanished as well. He was left shivering and swaying on his legs. After one long look at the blocked entrance and the rock walls, he slowly turned and walked stiffly back to his old camping site.

And truly, what else was he supposed to do? He could not attempt to leave now. Despite Dagnir's words that he wanted to see the effects of the poison, Estel had no doubt that he would be stopped from leaving. And the next time, the arrow would surely not only hit earth, but flesh and bone instead.

Frustrated, he let himself sink down into the grass, back facing to the entrance. He did not want for the men to see his face, and he felt that he would go crazy if he had to look at the stones and rocks a moment longer.

The thought of the poison inside his body scared him, if he wanted to admit it or not. Poison, there were so many possibilities. What would it do, what were the effects? If it was only slightly the same as he had experienced some days prior, then he knew that he had every reason to be afraid.

And Legolas, what if he was ill, too? He was alone in the Misty Mountains, far from help and rescue.

_Please, let him be alright. Let him be safe._

And his brothers? They had been on their way home, and they were together. If they had fallen ill, surely they had made it to safety? Had they been able to reach Imladris and find the help of their father? And what if they had been ill, had his father come to the right conclusions and maybe…maybe sent someone after him?

It was only a tiny sparkle of hope, but it burned inside of him like a fire. Perhaps there was help on its way. Perhaps he was not all alone in this.

_If there is hope, then I have to do what is in my power to get out of this cursed place. As soon as night falls, I will try to escape. And until then, I will save my strength and wait._

_Aye, as soon as it is dark, I will escape._

--oOo--

"Elladan! Elladan? Can you hear me?" Legolas was by now nearly frantic with worry. Shortly after they had ended their conversation, the older twin had crumbled to the ground and not moved anymore. The same poison that had claimed Elrohir had also caught his brother, and all Legolas was able to do was stare at his friends in fear.

What was he supposed to do? Where should he start? And even more, was there anything that he could do? Fear had wrapped its icy fingers around his heart, and although deep down he doubted that this poison would kill his friends there and then, he was not certain. He feared that the twins would die while he sat there, doing nothing.

With trembling fingers he laid Elladan on the soft ground near his brother and spread a blanket over them both. Scared eyes looked up at him, and it nearly broke his heart to see his friends thus helpless. Elladan and Elrohir were fierce warriors, protectors with heart and soul. And now, now they lay there, stiff and unmoving, unable to speak, scream or cry.

Suddenly, Legolas hated the one who had done that to his friends, hated him with all his might. And in that short moment, he vowed that he would not rest ere he had killed the one responsible. And it was an oath he meant to fulfill.

Sitting between the twins, he held on to the cold hands of them, his voice not stopping once in his soothing and encouraging. He told them that all would be well, that there was nothing to fear, that this spell could not and would not last forever, that as soon as morning came they would be able to go on. And when he felt that he could not keep up his lies, he began to tell them of Mirkwood, told them stories that he had not told them before, and with every word he spoke he wished for morning to come to take the fear and pain he felt inside away.

For Legolas morning came as a relief. With the first tinges of pink and purple on the horizon and the weak rays of the sun that wriggled their way through the trees, his heart swelled in gratefulness. Surely with the coming of morning, things would turn to the better and the twins would be able to escape the confinements caused by the poison.

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear, Legolas bend over and took a closer look at Elrohir. The elf's face was pale and cold to the touch, but his cheeks had regained a healthier tone then they had the night before. But to Legolas's disappointment, the eyes were glazed over in elvish sleep.

Sighing, he turned to the other side and gazed down on Elladan. His face was pale as well, but he was awake and reacted to Legolas's examination with a quick blink. Legolas smiled gently, and then placed his slender hand on the other's forehead. He felt no fever, and this fact relieved him greatly.

"Elladan, how do you feel, can you move?" He could have cried in despair as the only answer he got was a frustrated look from his friend. He had hoped that with the breaking of dawn the spell of the poison would be broken, but as it looked, it had been a fool's hope. Elladan was not able to move, and Legolas had no idea whether he would be able to move soon, or at all.

But he did not want to show this to his already frightened friend, and therefore he smiled down at Elladan, and gently caressed his pale cheek. "Do not worry, it will pass. You will see, mellon nin."

He gave the paralyzed twin's hand a reassuring squeeze, although he knew that Elladan was not able to feel it, and then he walked stiffly over to the nearly burnt down fire. Poking at it with a thin branch and blowing at it a few times, he brought the flames back to life, and soon the fire burned merrily.

Boiling some water and adding some herbs and leaves to make a tea, Legolas let his gaze travel to his friends. The sight brought despair to his heart. What was he to do? He felt torn into pieces; he could not pretend to be unaffected by their predicament, but he had to show that he was sure that it would pass. But, did he know that it would pass? No, it was only a feeling, and maybe, even just the wish of his heart.

_Oh Estel, I wish you were here with me right now. You would know what to do._

The thought of his friend made his stomach flip unpleasantly. The fact that the strong twins were grounded by the poison and that they were completely unable to move or speak, had worried him greatly. So, if these two warriors could be felled so easily, what would happen to Estel?

Yes, he was strong and stubborn, but he was mortal, after all. Legolas knew that his friend could take care of himself and that he was capable of surviving the worst situations, but he also knew that a human body could only go that far and not further.

What if his friend was ailing with the same symptoms, out there in the woods, all alone and unable to defend himself? What if Estel was right now being ripped apart and torn by the fangs of hungry wolves, or at the mercy of dark blooded orcs. But I think what happened to Estel was much worse? What if, what if his friend was already dead?

_No! Do not dare to think of such things! Estel is well, or…he will be as soon as you find him. And find him, you will. That stubborn human will not die that easily._

Legolas swallowed dryly and suppressed the urge to cry. But, the last few days had been exhausting. The constant worry, the fear, the uncertainty and the foreboding feeling; it all took its toll on the elf and without his conscious thought, a small tear rolled down his cheek.

_Oh mellon nin, I wish you were here. I wish you were here to tell me that all will be well._

--oOo--

A shudder went through his body, and Estel hugged the blanket closer around his shoulders. The rock walls around the clearing were high and thick, but with the passing of the day the wind had picked up, and it had become cold. The grass he sat on was wet, and here and there he could still see tiny spots were the frost had colored it white.

Since their conversation in the early morning, Dagnir had not shown up again, and Estel had waited alone and frustrated in the clearing. The fire he had kindled kept him warm, but he knew that he had to be careful with the wood he had. There were not many trees in the clearing, and as soon as his fuel would go out, he would be left without the warmth of a fire. It was not an encouraging thought.

The day passed slowly, and all Estel could do was sit in the clearing, fuel the fire, and wait for the evening to come. For, he knew that there was no way Dagnir would let him escape during daylight.

Another shiver crawled down his back, and Estel shifted uncomfortably. Why was he feeling so cold? And why was he shivering constantly? It was chilly, yes, but not icy cold yet. Winter was still some weeks in the future, and the temperatures were not so low as to make him freeze. Nevertheless, he felt frozen to the bone.

Only with effort he kept his teeth from chattering, and more than once he had been forced to hold his hands over the fire to warm them. It was strange that the weather affected him thus, as he was a ranger and well used to the wilderness and all the unpleasantness it provided.

He sighed and let his gaze travel over the rock walls around him, feeling the familiar sense of being smothered and fear sweep over him. Since his childhood he had hated small spaces, and the knowledge that he was in principle unable to leave this place, irked him.

_Curse Dagnir and his demented mind._

Estel knew that anger would get him nowhere, but that did not stop his mind from coming up with all the things that he would love to do to Dagnir, should he get the possibility. Unfortunately, it seems he now has the chance to follow through on his dreams. Just as he relished in the mental picture of hanging Dagnir from his feet down into the fires of Mount Doom, he felt his body sway where he sat.

Surprised, he raised his hand to feel his forehead to check for a fever. Well, at least he wanted to, but with mounting horror he watched as his hand stayed where it was, lying limply in his lap. Confused and scared, Estel tried again, but all he managed was a small movement of his fingers.

Fear overrode confusion, and he tried to get to his feet. He did not understand what was happening to him, but he knew that whatever it was, it was evil. Although his mind told his legs to move, they did not obey the command, and after some tries, panic filled his chest.

_My legs do not move! I…I cannot move, I …I…_

Then slowly, as if his mind was separated from his body, he saw himself sliding to the side, and then fall to the ground. His eyes stared at the fire and beyond, his arms lay on the grass before him and his legs were slightly drawn towards his chest. .

He wanted to scream and yell, to shout and plead for help, but all that crossed his lips was a weak whimper, and then…nothing. Coldness swept over him, and he felt the heaviness of his limbs being replaced by nothingness.

Fear grasped his heart and he meant he had to gasp. The feeling inside his lungs was horrible, as they burned and struggled to continue working, while the rest of his body had fallen into a deep sleep, from which he did not know how to awaken.

Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, and he was unable to stop them. What if his lungs stopped working as well? What if he had to heave? What if this was the end?. -->

_Oh, what is this new devilry? It has to be the poison, I am sure. But, why now and why like this?_

And truly, had Dagnir not said he wanted to see him suffer? Surely, to be paralyzed was scary, but he would soon fall asleep and then he would not have to think about that any longer. He felt no pain, and that was a good thing, as he was sure that the impact with the hard ground had certainly jostled his injured knee.

So, where was the sense in rendering him numb?

Then, his eyes caught a movement near the rock wall, and his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, the fact that he could not move at all terrified him, and he silently yelled at his body to move, to get up and fight.

But it was no use, and helplessly he had to watch with frightened eyes as the man came closer and closer towards him, a smirk on his face. And when he reached his side and crouched down before him, he thought his heart must burst, so full of fear it was. Never before had he felt that helpless, and he knew that he was victim to the other's mercy. And he knew that he would receive none.

"Hello, scum."

Dagnir was so close that he could see the glimmer in his eyes, smell the sweat on his skin and hear the harsh breathing of the man. The wind rushed through the Gondorian's white hair and Estel felt his own hair move on the same breeze.

Then, the man reached out with his scarred hand and touched him on the shoulder. Estel saw the movement and actually felt something on his shoulder, but he could not move, and he could not yell at the man to go away and leave him alone. He wanted to scream and fight, to make the man go away and never come back; the feeling of disgust at the touch and his own defenselessness was overpowering.

With the unresponsiveness of the ranger, the grin on the man's face grew, and then he reached out again, and let his fingers slide down Estel's cheek.

The touch made his stomach turn and for a moment he thought he had to heave, but he seemed to be even unable to do that. The touch burned on his skin and long after Dagnir had withdrawn his hand did Estel could feel the touch.

Oh, he did not really 'feel' the touch, his body was numb and useless. No, it was rather a feeling of pressure on his skin, so as if his skin and nerves were only numb to pain, but not to a touch. And the knowledge that this foul man had touched him, actually caressed his face did enough to make him wish to be anywhere else, but not in the clearing.

_Saes, saes, let him go, just let him go…_

But he knew that Dagnir would not go, and that he would not be satisfied until the got what he wanted. With frightened eyes Estel watched how Dagnir got to his feet, and made his way over to the fire that was burning only a few yards away. He could see how the man poked the burning branches a little, and then set water to boil.

Estel's mind reeled. What did Dagnir want, what had he planned? Was it the poison that rendered him numb? Would it pass, and when? Fear crawled through his body, and his stomach felt queasy. Closing his eyes, he sent a prayer to the Valar. He hated his vulnerable position, and the amount of fear that raced through his being was new to him; never before had he felt that scared.

_Estel, control yourself. Do not let him see your fear, stay strong, stay valiant. He cannot hurt you if you do not let him_.

It was all he could do to calm himself, but it worked. Slowly, his panic vanished to leave him with normal fear, and after another moment he felt able to open his eyes once more. The next second, he wished he had not.

Right before him, the former captain sat in the grass, a huge grin on his face. Estel had not heard or sensed him approaching once more, and with another rush of fear he suddenly knew that Dagnir knew that, too.

Almost gently, the man gripped Estel's shoulder, and then turned the ranger so that he lay on his back, staring up at the sky. Estel more sensed than felt that Dagnir took hold of his legs, and then spread them out, to that he was now lying straight and motionless on the grass.

It felt so strange, to be unable to move and speak, to turn the head and look what was happening. It was not the drowsy heaviness that one felt when awaking from unconsciousness, nor the hurtful stiffness that one experienced when wounded. It was rather, as if his body was no longer his own, and he was trapped inside of it, unable to do anything. It was a horrible thing to experience in itself, but the fact that he was in the hands of his enemy, made his heart beat wildly.

Despite the fact that he was paralyzed, he still heard everything that went on around him, and as his ears detected the sound of a knife being unsheathed, he wanted to scream. This could not be true, and he wished it was not.

Then, suddenly, Dagnir appeared in his line of vision, but he held no dagger in his hands. At first, relief flooded through him, but then his mind was so nice as to equip him with terrible pictures of other things that Dagnir was able to do to him.. -->

_Thank you so much, not only that Dagnir will surely hurt me, my own mind works against me._

But he had no time to dwell on his thoughts, as suddenly a voice drifted to his ears.

"You know, ranger, the funny thing about this poison is that it has different stages. The first one, as you surely know, was rather painful and unpleasant. This second stage, as it seems, renders you unmovable. Tell me, scum, do you feel pain?"

And with that, he let his booted foot crash down on his already injured knee. Estel felt the pressure of the foot, but, strangely, he felt no pain. Where white hot agony should have spread through him like wildfire, he felt…nothing.

He could have laughed at the fact. Here he was, at the mercy of a maniac who was able to do with him Valar knew what, and he was unable to feel any pain! This was…ridiculous. With mocking eyes, Estel looked up at Dagnir, and in this very moment he felt very good.

_Well, you can do with me as you please, but you cannot hurt me._

For a moment, the white-haired man seemed uncertain and then angered, but his face quickly changed back to his normal mask of superiority and cheerfulness. With an evil glint in his eyes, he gave the already injured leg another kick for good measure, and then crouched down beside Estel.

Grinning, he simply looked into the ranger's eyes. He neither spoke nor moved for long minutes and after some time of staring into the red glimmering eyes of the Gondorian, Estel feared that he would be burned by them. But just as he began to wonder why the man was not doing anything, the grin broadened even further.

_If his grin widens some more__, it will split his head in two._

"You know ranger, you are quite handsome. Would be a shame if someone changed that. A cut here, a few broken bones there, mixed with some burns there and there, or…some missing body parts. Do you think the elves would still keep you then?"

With every word Dagnir spoke, Estel realized that the man had changed. He was no longer the level headed, calculating man who had kidnapped him and the little boy Taran to extract his revenge. What Dagnir had done back then had been planned, plotted and executed with a clear mind and a goal that had to be achieved at all costs. Now, Dagnir was simply…crazy. Totally and utterly demented and mad.

Dagnir reached out and grabbed Estel's chin between his fingers, tilting his head from left to right, so as if to see where to best place the cuts, burns and broken bones he had spoken of. Helpless, Estel had to endure the examination, the constant shifts in perspective and the nagging feeling inside his stomach that told him that this was very real and no figment of his imagination. This was the reality, and he was helpless to the point that it swallowed him.

Suddenly, Dagnir withdrew his hand and then leaned over so that his face was only inches apart from Estel's, their noses nearly touching. They were so close that Estel could smell the disgusting breath of the man and see the tiny pearls of sweat that had appeared on the man's upper lip.

With his hand Dagnir pushed down on his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply and bruising the tender skin, but his voice was calm as he threatened, "Make no mistake, I will see you die. And it will be a slow and painful death, and before it all ends you will wish that youhave never met me. I am the worst thing that you could imagine, I am the monster out of your nightmares, I am the shadow that haunts you in the dark, I am the bodiless voice that calls out to you from the abyss. I AM DEATH!"

And with that he released his throat, giving him another push for good measure, and then leaned back and walked over to the fire. Had he been able to, Estel would have gasped and choked, but his lungs would not cooperate, and so he could only take in small amounts of air. His lungs burned despite the otherwise numbness of his body, and he knew that dark bruises were already forming on his neck.

A soft breeze ruffled his hair, and he closed his eyes in despair.

_By all the Valar, please, help me. Help me to get out of this one, oh please._

But they did not heed his anguished plea, and too soon the white-haired Gondorian returned. Towering over the supine form of his enemy for a moment, he looked down and sighed deeply.

"It seems my knife is not hot enough yet, but I already have another idea to pass the time."

And with that, he moved to stand broad legged over Estel and then straddled him; Dagnir sat down on his thighs, knees pressed into the soft earth and hands placed onto Estel's stomach.

Almost instantly Estel's breathing quickened as much as was possible with the numbness of his body in fear of what was to come. What was the man doing? Oh, he had not forgotten the mentioning of the knife, which was warming in the fire, and that was going to be used on him, but, what was Dagnir planning to do now?

Due to his position on his thighs, Estel was not able to see all of the man, and neither was he able to feel what he was doing exactly. But the pressure on his body the man produced was well tangible, and with mounting worry and fear Estel awaited what was to come.

After a second or two, he felt the weight shift forwards, and then the voice of the man floated to his ears.

"While we wait, we could,…uhm…test something. You know, I always wanted to know how much pressure one needs to break a rib. Have you ever tested breaking a rib by just pressing down on it until it snaps? What say you, ready for a little testing?"

And with that, Dagnir shifted forwards, laying his hand over one of Estel's ribs and then pressed down. First, nothing happened, but then the man straightened and pressed down with more force.

The sickening sound of his breaking rib reached Estel's ears a second before Dagnir's exclamation of pleasure. Not for the first time Estel was thankful for not feeling the pain, but he knew, that as soon as the poison released him out of its grasp, the pain would consume him.

_Well, a broken rib is not that bad. I have endured worse, and I still live. I can handle a broken rib._

He could almost see the grin that was plastered on Dagnir's face as he commented, "Number one. I am a bit disappointed that it broke that easily, but it was a smaller rib. What say you, let's test another one, all right?"

The pressure on his chest shifted a bit upwards, and again the man pressed down and soon the second rib snapped under the weight. This time, Estel could actually feel the moment the rib broke, but he only felt the pressure and the movement the broken bone did in his body, not the pain. The pain was reserved for later.

"Number two. I wonder what number three will be like?"

When Dagnir reached number five, he dramatically wiped the sweat from his brow. Sitting back and letting his hand dangle from his knee, he took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Oh, that is more exhausting than I would have thought. But, I think the knife will be ready by now."

Patting Estel's chest in mock camradery, he stood up, "Do not look so sad, we can continue with the ribs later."

_Later, later! If I have any unbroken ribs left by then. This man is crazier than Erestor when the twins play a prank on him. He is madder than a wounded Mumakil!_

The sound of booted feet crunching the grass reached his ears, and Estel prepared himself mentally for the next stage of this horror to begin. When Dagnir kneeled down beside him, a red gleaming dagger in hand, his stomach churned violently and he feared he would have to throw up. But the urge passed, and when the face of Dagnir appeared in his line of vision, he glared at him the best he could.

The only answer he got was to be backhanded sharply; blood oozed from his split lip, but as he was not able to move it trickled slowly down his chin. A shiver raced through his body as Dagnir smirked at him, only to gently wipe at the blood with his fingers, the gleaming dagger only inches apart from his skin.

"Have I not told you that I do not accept disobedience? No? Well, my mistake."

The red gleaming eyes roved over his supine body, leaving nothing out, and the longer the man looked, his gaze searching and measuring, the madness in his face grew. From time to time Dagnir muttered under his breath, but it was too low and mumbled and Estel could not understand the words. Nevertheless, judging by the tone and the emotions flittering over the Gondorian's face, things had not turned for the better for Estel.

Suddenly, as if Dagnir surfaced from a trance, he straightened and then turned to face Estel, "Ready, ranger?"

And without forewarning, he pressed the still gleaming dagger onto the skin on Estel's right hand, literally roasting the flesh until smoke drifted into the sky and the scent of burning flesh filled the air.

Dagnir's face was red with excitement; his eyes were big as the moon and a bit of spit leaked out of his mouth and dripped onto his chin. He was muttering and murmuring; words like 'yes, yes' and 'oh, see how the tiny fly burns' breaking the otherwise complete stillness.

And Estel, he screamed and screamed silently and unmoving, his pained and terrified eyes his only way to express the horror he felt. The smell of his own burning flesh nauseated him, and he wished for unconsciousness to claim him, but it was a wish that would not be granted. For the poison had not yet released its hold on him, and he felt not the excruciating pain that surely assaulted his whole body.

_I will die, here and now. He will not stop. He is mad and he will kill me tonight, for he has lost his mind and will not wait. Sweet Eru, I have not thought that it would end that way._

Estel closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sounds of glee coming from Dagnir, and he prayed that if he died tonight, his family and Legolas would not find his body, for he was sure that Dagnir would not leave enough of him to not break their very hearts.

And then, Dagnir's voice drifted to his ears once more, "Ready for round two, scum?"

End of chapter 15

Tbc…

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So, what do you think? Have I promised too much? Please, let me know what you think, I am dying to know. All reviews will be cherished, flames will be used as substitute for chocolate and coffee. Well no, not for coffee, as I cannot live without that stuff. :o) 

**So, feel free to press that tiny, little, nice, wonderful, sweet, lovely, great, priceless, beautiful, perfect 'submit review' button, and make me a very happy author, please. Until next time!**


	17. 16 The Nightmare continues

**Chapter 16 "The nightmare continues"**

**A/N 1: **I think by now you know the names of the villains, so there is no need to repeat them again. :-)

**A/N 2:** This chapter is especially for _Ainu Laire_, because she is so eager to read something about this topic. Here you are, hope you like it!

**Beta:** Chris. Thank you sooooo much!

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"_When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."_

_(Mae West)_

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Chapter 16: The nightmare continues

Elrond stood on his favorite balcony and gazed out into the gloaming. The day had passed uneventful, and he had received no word from his sons or Mirkwood. He had tried to keep his mind busy to stop him from thinking about his sons, but it had not worked. So, he had finally come here, the only place in Imladris where he found peace and quiet.

The cold night wind rushed through his dark hair and played with the strands, but Elrond did not notice it. His eyes were fixed on the slowly darkening sky, where the faint sparkle of the awakening stars could be seen.

Always, the stars had been able to soothe his worries, and although the worry and fear still resided in his stomach, Elrond felt suddenly much calmer. The cold night soothed his frayed nerves, the wind caressed his skin, and the scents of wild flowers and fresh water made him feel at peace.

Suddenly, a well-known sound reached his keen ears, and Elrond let his gaze travel to the huge gates and the stone bridge that led to Imladris. He had heard the clippity-clopp of hooves, riding fast through the near complete darkness.

_Who is in such a hurry that he would risk falling off the bridge? My sons, have my sons returned?_

Without hesitation he turned from the balcony and rushed back into his study. Practically throwing the door open he ran into the hallway, down the stairs and to the wooden front doors of the Last Homely House. He nearly forgot to breathe as he swung the entrance doors open and rushed down the steps.

Down here the night looked even darker, but Elrond's mind had turned from the stars and the serenity of it and instead focused on the rider that was rushing up towards the Last Homely House, having left the bridge behind him.

Feeling his heart beating quickly in his chest, Elrond stopped in his tracks. The hooves of the horse crunched the pebbles. -->, and the horse snorted loudly. Even from this distance Elrond could tell that the beast was tired and that it had broken into sweat.

And then, he could finally make out the rider, who was bend low over the horse's neck, gray robes and hair trailing behind him like a banner in a storm. Elrond's heart skipped a beat.

_Gandalf…_

The tired horse skidded to a halt before the elven Lord, snorting and sweating. On top, Gandalf sat up straight and then dismounted swiftly. He walked up to his old friend and they embraced each other quickly.

"Elrond, old friend." Gandalf's voice was a bit scratchy, and Elrond asked himself briefly whether the wizard had even rested during his ride to Imladris. Probably not.

Relief made his voice shake slightly as he answered, "Mithrandir, it is good to see you."

A stable hand took care of the horse and led it away to the stables, where it could enjoy the hay and some apples, water and rest.

A frown marred the old wizard's face, and he took Elrond's arm as both made their way into the house.

"Elrond, your message was vague at best. What happened?"

To Gandalf's surprise, Elrond sighed deeply and wiped a hand over his brow. They entered the entrance hall, and Elrond led his old friend into his private study, where a fire had been started in the hearth and the room was warmed comfortable.

"This is a long story, Mithrandir, and not a happy one."

Gandalf let himself sink down in an overstuffed chair near the fire, took the goblet of wine that Elrond poured him, and said, "Then tell me, my friend, for I feel that we do not have much time to waste."

Elrond sighed deeply once more, sank down in a chair opposite the Istar and gazed into the fire. Then, his deep voice filled the room and he began to tell.

"It all began nearly two weeks ago. The twins, Estel and Legolas had gone to visit Taran and his family…"

--oOo--

"Good, Elladan. Take another step." Legolas encouraged his friend, as the older twin slowly made his way around the small campsite. Only an hour ago they had discovered that the hold of the poison had relaxed, and by now both Elladan and Elrohir where able to walk and talk and feel. Although, both still had some balance problems.

Elladan took a few more steps, and then sighed and sank down to the leave covered forest floor. Tucking a strand of hair behind his pointed ear he said exasperatedly, "I still feel as if I am wrapped in …clouds. All fluffy and stiff."

Legolas only rolled his eyes at so much impatience and poked the fire with a long stick that was already burned at the tip. The night was approaching and the air was getting rather cold. Already, some of the dew of the day had turned into white frost.

The voice of Elrohir could be heard, "Dan, you should be glad to be able to move again." The younger twin was just completing his tenth round around the campsite. It had been him who had escaped the paralysis first, and Elrohir was already feeling very much improved.

He rolled his shoulders, swung his arms and pulled his knees up to his chest with every step he took, which gave him the look of a demented grass-hopper. The paleness of his skin had turned to a healthy pink and with every round that he completed, the resolve in his eyes became stronger.

A rush of wind went through the treetops, and showers of yellow leaves sailed down to the ground, reminding them that winter was not far. With a last jump, Elrohir reached his brother's side, grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Dan, move! You have to get your muscles working again and the blood has to circulate. So, move!" He gave his brother a little shove, and Elladan complied and began to make his way around the campsite, muttering under his breath over stubborn elves.He is the one talking. As if he is not stubborn himself. -->

Legolas put another thick branch on the fire and watched the brothers take their rounds. The moment his friends had come out of the paralysis, his heart had rejoiced. Inwardly, he had feared that the poison had numbed the two forever, and that they would never be released from that locked-in state.

And now, the twins were themselves once more, although a bit stiff and sore from lying on the cold and hard ground for a night and a day. Seeing Elrohir give his brother another shove to get him moving faster, Legolas could not help but smile.

It was so good to see his friends healthy again, although he knew it was only temporary. The poison was not defeated yet, Legolas felt it, and no one could tell if it would strike again.

And Estel, he thought bitterly, is still out there somewhere. Alone and more likely than not scared halfway to Mandos.

_We will find him. And whoever is responsible for this madness will pay the price for his deeds!_

The flames burned brighter as the wind picked up, and red glowing sparks flew high into the night, dying on their way to the heavens and leaving nothing but ash in the air.

--oOo--

Estel was scared. Never before in his life had he been that afraid of someone. From where he was lying on the ground, he could see the flickering flames of the small fire he had kindled in the morning, and beside the fire sat Dagnir.

The man was grinning and calmly sharpening his dagger in the gleam of the fire. The red glow created shadows on the pale face and gave it a devilish look. Together with his recent experiences and the knowledge of what was still to come, Estel wished for the ground to open and swallow him to end his misery.

_No even better, please, swallow Dagnir and relieve Middle-earth of his evil._

But the ground did not open, and Estel felt frustration mingle with the fear he already felt. The night was cool and windy, and more than once the wind had picked up his hair and blown dark strands into his face.

He wished he could wipe them away or tuck the strands behind his ears, but he was still unable to move. Sighing, Estel let his eyes roam over the rocks behind Dagnir. The sun had set and night had fallen; shadows were creeping over the mountain walls and it was difficult to make out any shapes.

But staring at the rocks was at least better than watching the maniac sharpen his dagger. The sound that the stone created on the metal was bad enough, as it send shivers of dread down Estel's spine.

Although he could neither see nor feel it, he knew that his hand was badly burned. Dagnir had not been satisfied with the one burn, and had pressed the dagger down a few times, until he had giggled in glee.

Giggled! It had made Estel's stomach tighten uneasily, and the smell from his burned skin had nauseated him. But after that, Dagnir had simply stood up, nodded to himself and sat down near the fire to reheat the dagger.

And that had been some hours ago. At first, Estel had feared that the man would come back and continue what he had started, but with the time passing by and Dagnir making no sign that he would come back soon, he had relaxed a little.

But, he had to admit, it was strange. Here he was, defenseless and at the mercy of the Gondorian, and the man was not taking advantage of it. Had Dagnir planned another devilry? Something even more horrible? He did not know, and so the fear that had slumbered awoke to new life inside his chest.

In all the time that had passed, Dagnir had either sharpened his weapon, or mumbled under his breath while staring at the flames. It seemed that the man had retreated into his own world, unaware of what was happening around him and oblivious to Estel's presence. Strange, indeed. But, who could know what went on in the mind of a lunatic?

Another gust of wind caught in Estel's hair and let a strand of dark hair land across his face. Annoyed, the man closed his eyes and wished to be able to lift his hand and tuck the strand behind his ear.

_Mh, maybe the poison has worn off by now. Perhaps I should just try._

Shooting a quick look in Dagnir's direction and making sure that the man was not watching him, Estel concentrated and tried to move his right arm. But, alas, nothing happened. The arm did not move and after a few minutes of intense concentration and trying, Estel had to admit defeat.

_All right, perhaps not yet, but soon._

A shiver crawled across his body from head to toe, and for the first time that night, Estel truly felt cold. It was not the chill of fear that made him shiver, but the low temperatures. As it seemed, although his body was numb to pain, he felt the coldness of the air and tried to compensate by shivering. But Estel knew that it would not keep his body warm enough; without a blanket or the heat of the fire, the low temperatures could make him ill. Of course, as a ranger, he was used to cold nights without much protection against the elements, but even rangers had blankets and fires to keep them warm.

As another shiver shook his numb body, Estel sighed inwardly. In his opinion, freezing to death was better than being maimed by Dagnir, but if he would have had a say in the matter, he would have chosen neither of the two options.

As he had no other thing to do, he closed his eyes and thought of his home and family. He wondered what they were doing right now and if all was all right with his brothers and Legolas. Somehow he had a warning feeling telling him they were not, but he put the thought to the back of his mind. Worrying needlessly would not help him now.

Estel thought of the waterfalls in Imladris and how the water used to shine and glimmer in the sunshine like liquid mithril. He imagined the ancient trees that swayed in the summer breeze and whose leaves whispered and talked. The scent of beautiful autumn flowers made him smile inwardly, and something akin to peace settled over his senses.

He forgot his predicament; he could not see the dark mountain walls any longer, but cliffs of white stone and cascading waterfalls. The glowing of the fire that penetrated his eyelids turned to the gleam of the setting sun, and the coldness that coursed through his body became the cool water of his favorite pond at home. All was well.

The darkness that blanketed the clearing and the almost complete stillness nearly lulled Estel to sleep, but then he suddenly heard soft footsteps approach. His heart skipped a beat and he snapped his eyes open.

Dagnir was back, and the nightmare continued.

"Hello, ranger. I am glad you are still awake, there is still so much I want to try with you." The white hair of Dagnir shone red in the firelight, but that was nothing against the devilish glint that sparkled in his eyes.

Estel could not help but feel reminded of a Balrog, one of those dark creatures of Morgoth of which Glorfindel had told him when he was younger. Despite his best efforts, another wave of fear gripped him and made his breath quicken.

So this was it. Dagnir had finally found out the best way to torment him, and Estel knew that the white-haired Gondorian would not stop this time ere he had gotten what he wanted. Whatever that might be.

Dagnir towered over the motionless form of Estel and gazed at him thoughtfully. Then he shook his head slowly, "Tsk, tsk, look at you. You shiver before me in fear and would you be able to, you would run away as fast and as far as you could. You are such a pathetic whelp."

Crouching down, the man prodded Estel's chest to see if he was still numb, and then smirked satisfied. Then, he reached behind him and when his hand came into Estel's line of vision once more, Estel could see that it held a water flask.

Estel had not seen Dagnir bring it into the clearing, but as he had been lying on his side, numbed by confusion, fear and the poison at that time, that was not very surprising. As his eyes fell on the water flask, he suddenly felt very thirsty, and he noticed for the first time that he had not drunken anything for many hours.

But, somehow he doubted that Dagnir would let him drink. No, the man was too evil and demented to show any mercy or pity. So, it came as a surprise as Dagnir opened the flask and gestured with it in Estel's direction.

"I guess you are thirsty, ranger. If I am not mistaken you have not drunken since morning. Want a sip?"

If he had been able to, Estel would have furrowed his brow. This was too strange to be good. He saw how the white-haired man lifted his eyebrows and gave him a questioning look. Then, as if remembering some elementary thing, the man laughed,

"Oh, yes, I forgot. Still paralyzed, are you? Ah, no matter. I will take that as a yes."

And with that, he leaned forwards and none too gently pried Estel's mouth open. The thought of the man's fingers entering his mouth and touching his lips and teeth was disgusting, and Estel feared that he would have to heave.

The urge did not pass and when Dagnir's face appeared in his vision, so near to his own face that he could smell the man's breath and see the tiny hairs on Dagnir's cheeks, Estel felt his stomach revolt heavily.

The poison hindered any vomiting, but his stomach constricted painfully, and his whole body trembled for a moment. Poison or not, this was even too much for his body to cope. As Dagnir saw and then felt the movement of the otherwise numb body, his grin faltered, but then it returned.

Wagging a finger before Estel's face, he scolded, "No, no, dear Strider. Not yet. The poison will release you soon I think, but not yet. So behave and have fun while you can."

With that said, he pressed one of his hands on Estel's throat and tilted the open flask with his other. A warm liquid filled Estel's mouth, and it instantly burned his lips and tongue. That was no water!

The poison hindered his swallowing, and so Dagnir massaged his neck, relaxing the muscles up to the point that Estel reflexively swallowed the burning liquid. The moment it went down his throat and hit his stomach, Estel knew that whatever it was, it would do his body no good.

He hated himself for swallowing, as he wanted nothing more than to spit out the liquid, but he could not, and so he swallowed involuntarily more and more of the 'water', until the flask was empty. The foul brew ran down his cheeks and neck, and not even the massaging of Dagnir helped.

Slightly annoyed but satisfied nevertheless, Dagnir withdrew the flask, wiped the liquid from Estel's chin and cheeks, and then patted his cheek approvingly.

"See, that was not that bad, was it?"

Dagnir placed the bottle on the grass beside them, then sat down and leaned with his back against Estel's upper body. He drew up his knees, rested his elbows on them and gazed out into the night.

"Shall I tell you a story, ranger? Something scary maybe? Yes? Good, I know a perfect story for a night such as this."

He cleared his throat and then continued in a voice that a father would use to tell his child a good night story.

"It all happened three years ago. I had just come to the North, as I had been a well respected and honored captain in Gondor…"

Estel did not listen. His throat burned and his stomach felt on fire. As it seemed, the poison was not strong enough to stop this pain, or it was wearing off. Whatever it was, he could nearly taste the liquid on his tongue and feel its effects on his body.

The moment he had smelled the brew, he had known that he had smelled it before, although he could not tell where and when. But what he knew with certainty was that this brew contained a lot of alcohol, far more than the average ale or wine. It was not as strong as the wine the Wood-elves drank or as Miruvor, but it was potent.

_And the amount I have drunken is enough to knock out a warg._

Half listening to the story that Dagnir told him, Estel waited for the liquid to take effect. Minutes passed and nothing happened. But just as Dagnir told about the traitor Torian and his betrayal, he had the strange feeling of…flying.

The world around him shifted and the ground on which he lay swayed like the deck of a ship in a storm. He closed his eyes, but that did not help, on the contrary, the sensation got worse, and so the snapped his eyes open once more.

He had not even noticed that the Gondorian had stopped narrating his story and had turned to face him.

"Feeling good, are you not?"

_No! I am not feeling good! I feel awful, you crazy, demented, dim witted, thickheaded troll!_

The stars that had appeared in the sky danced before his eyes, and suddenly Estel knew that he was drunk. He had only once gotten drunk before, and that had been in Mirkwood. The wine they consumed there was much stronger than the wine in Imladris, and he had misjudged the potency. It had all come down to him falling asleep in the corridor just outside his room, and a very amused Legolas, who had to explain to the passing maidens, that humans indeed had beds, and usually slept in them and not on the ground. Needless to say that Estel had been very embarrassed the next morning.

But drunk? What was Dagnir gaining with him getting drunk? It would only put him to sleep faster and take the fun away. Estel could not help but gaze at the man who leaned over him, and it seemed Dagnir read his gaze correctly.

"You are asking yourself why I would make you drunk, are you not? Well, let me tell you. You see, my friend, I do not know how long this poison works and renders you immobile. Furthermore, breaking ribs or bones and burning skin is not as much fun as I would have thought. It is boring if the victim does not feel the pain."

At this point, Dagnir let his fingers caress Estel's split lip, and then traced down his chest to feel the broken ribs. Almost in a trance, he lifted Estel's burned hand and stroked the burn tenderly. It made Estel sick to watch it.

Replacing the hand on the ground, Dagnir turned his gaze back towards Estel's face.

"So, I think it is time to let you feel the way I felt, after you threw me down that deep chasm. Do you know how long I lay there? Without water or food? Oh no, you have no idea. But I will make you feel the pain I felt. You will learn how it feels to slowly die of thirst and hunger."

The voice that had become quite angry returned to the former calm level as Dagnir stated,

"The alcohol and herbs in the liquid will drain your body of much of its water. You will feel as thirsty as if you had not taken a sip of water in days. Oh, and of course, I will take your water and food with me when I leave you. It will be fun to see what kills you first, the thirst or the poison."

And with that, the white-haired man turned and resumed his former position. Leaning back and using Estel as a kind of cushion, he picked up his tale where he had left it, so as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Torian betrayed our friendship as he came to kill me. Me! Can you imagine that? But he never was a good fighter, and therefore…"

The blood rushed in Estel's ears and he heard nothing of Dagnir's story. The words of the man would not leave him. He was going to die of thirst. That was a horrible fate. During his time with the rangers, he had heard tales of wanderers that had died of thirst. Some of them had become mad, killing themselves to end their suffering. Others had eaten leaves, grass and even earth to ease the thirst.

To die of thirst was a terrible fate, and in that moment Estel wished that Dagnir would simply take out his dagger and kill him with a clean stroke. But then the thought of his brothers, father and Legolas entered his mind, and he vowed to hold on. To be strong and not give up. There was always hope, and with a bit of luck, he would make it out of this one.

And perhaps, perhaps his father had already sent help. Maybe he was not all alone.

_Who are you kidding, Estel? No one knows where you are and no one will come to your rescue. You are alone, and you will die with nothing but Dagnir and his men as company. _

He gazed at the stars that had always brought him such joy, but which now seemed to mock him with their pureness. His vision swam and spots began to appear before his eyes, increasing in number by the minute. The ground swayed under him and the world swirled around him.

The voice of Dagnir was a constant sound in the background of his mind, and before long he closed his tired eyes and let the voice wash over him like rolling waves of the sea.

Later, he could not tell when he had fallen asleep, and the last thing he remembered was Dagnir's voice filling the night with meaningless words.

--oOo--

A dry branch snapped in the fire, and sparks flew high into the air to be carried away by the cold wind. The trees towered above the three elves like giants, and the patches of dark sky that could be spotted between the branches were as black as the darkest pits of Mordor. The only thing that soothed them a bit were the twinkling stars that fought bravely against the darkness.

Legolas sighed. If he had thought the day had been long, he was now proved wrong. After the twins had been released from the grip of the poison, he had hoped that they would go on and search for Estel, but that had not been possible.

Elladan and Elrohir had much improved and were almost back to their normal strength, but they were tired to the bones. So, despite their feelings that haste was needed to help Estel, they had decided to rest for at least a few hours to replenish their strength.

Legolas could still hear Elrohir's voice in his ears, 'Legolas, you need sleep as well. If I am not very much mistaken, and I know I am not, you have not slept during the night while watching over us. So, sleep!'

With that Elrohir had tossed him a blanket and given him 'the look', a very good imitation of the intimidating stare Lord Elrond used to get what he wanted. With a wry grin Legolas had to admit that Elrohir had over the years pefectioned the look.

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear, he shifted uncomfortably. The peaceful breathing of the sleeping twins reached his ears, and he felt glad that they were back to their normal annoying selves.

But still, his heart told him to go and find Estel. He was more than certain that his friend was in great peril, although he had no idea where exactly and why.

_We are close, I know that. I can nearly feel him. And that rumbling that I heard in the mountains, I wonder what had caused that. Oh, my friend, I hope you are well. Just a few more hours, and then we will be on our way. We will find you and help you and all will be well in the end. I promise._

And with that thought, Legolas let his eyes glaze over, and he fell into a light slumber. After all, he would not help his friend by being practically dead on his feet because of lack of sleep.

--oOo--

Dagnir felt wonderful. Some minutes ago the ranger had finally fallen asleep, and Dagnir had searched his packs for the things he would take away. For long moments he had sat in the wet grass and rummaged through the neatly packed ranger pack.

It had surprised him that the man would pack his things so neatly. Everything seemed to have its place and the pack contained nothing useless. Musing that rangers were strange people, indeed, he took out the herbs and food, the bandages and other healing supplies. It would be far better to leave the ranger without them and see the struggle the man would be forced to fight to prolong his life.

A smile graced Dagnir's face as he examined the knives and daggers, arrows and the sword. The weapons were well cared for, and the blades shone silver in the starlight. Elvish runes were engraved on the blades and handles, and the sword lay perfect in his hand.

_I think I will keep that as my own_. -->_. The weapon is beautiful; a miserable ranger of the North does not deserve such a weapon._

Placing the sword back in its sheath and taking a look at the arrows, Dagnir asked himself not for the first time why a simple ranger of the North lived in Rivendell and called elves his friends. Of course he knew that the rangers had close bonds with the firstborn, but never before had he seen such a bond of loyalty and friendship as the one between this man and the other elves.

A frown appeared on his face and he shot a quick look at the sleeping ranger. He felt that the man had a secret that he had not revealed yet, and for a moment he wondered whether it was worth finding out before the ranger died. Shrugging and throwing the nearly empty pack back to the ground, Dagnir got to his feet.

There was one last thing he wanted to do before leaving the ranger, and that was searching the man for any hidden weapons. Starting with the boots, the Gondorian checked them for knives and soon found what he was looking for. A thin blade was hidden in the black shaft of the right boot, and Dagnir took it out and stowed it in his own belt.

He found another dagger hidden behind the belt of the ranger, but after that no more weapons presented themselves. Nodding to himself, Dagnir was about to get to his feet, when something silver caught his eye.

Intrigued, the man crouched down and leant over the motionless ranger to get a better look. There, something silver on the man's left hand reflected the moonlight. The sky was not cloudless and therefore the moon was veiled most of the time, but right now the pale light streamed down to the earth and illuminated the ground.

Reaching out, Dagnir lifted the man's cold hand and narrowed his eyes. His heart beat quicker and his breathing quickened.

_Now that is interesting. I wonder…no, that is not possible. But what if it is? It would explain a lot. But…no, that cannot be. That just cannot be! I guess he stole it somewhere. Yes, that miserable scum stole it and he will pay for it!_

And with that, Dagnir roughly pulled the ring of Barahir from Estel's left forefinger and then put it into a pocket of his tunic. Angered, he let Estel's hand fall back to the ground and gave the ranger a disgusted look.

Dagnir may be hunted in Gondor as a traitor and murderer, but he had been a captain of Gondor, and despite his deeds, his heart was loyal to the Lord Steward and the memory of the Kings of old. Once he had seen a picture of the Ring of Barahir and had never forgotten the beautiful design of it. He did not believe that the heir of Isildur was still alive and would perhaps one day return to the White City and reclaim the throne, but in his opinion, no one had the right to disgrace the line of Kings!

Of course he had not studied history and did not know everything that had happened during the Last Alliance, but he knew about the One Ring and the fall of Isildur. Everybody who fought for Gondor against the forces of Mordor knew about that. As he saw it, Elendil had been a good leader and King, but only his son Isildur had been courageous enough to do the only thing that was right. To take the ring and keep it for his heirs, for the protection of all.

His blood boiled, but Dagnir swallowed thickly and then got to his feet. Anger made his arms shake and only with great effort he could stop himself from slaying Estel right there and then. Oh no, the ranger would die a slow and painful death, and Dagnir would show him what it meant to disgrace the Kings of old.

Turning, he shouldered his own pack that was now filled with Estel's healing supplies, food and weapons and set out into the darkness. He would sleep very well tonight, and his excited anticipation of the things that were still to come made him smile.

_I will sleep like an infant._

Yawning wildly his tall form vanished in the darkness and stillness settled over the clearing. A gray cloud sailed over the sky and veiled the light of the moon, dipping the rock walls in blackness. Morning could not come soon enough, but whether the light of the day would change things for the better remained to be seen.

Patting the magnificent elvish sword that now hung at his side and fingering the Ring of Barahir in his pocket, Dagnir grinned evilly, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. He had nearly broken the ranger, he had felt it, but still, the man possessed more strength and stubbornness that he had anticipated. It would be wonderful to see him finally beaten and broken, once the poison had finished playing with him.

Dagnir cast a last glance over his shoulder back at the sleeping ranger, and a feeling of curiosity filled his chest. But he snuffed it out quickly and replaced it with his mad hatred for Estel, the man who had ruined his plans of revenge and nearly killed him. Then he vanished into the shadows of the night like a predator that had stilled its hunger for the time being, but that would return soon, when the hunger became greater.

Tbc…

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_Another brand new chapter. What do you say, do you like it?_

Let see, I am getting a little bit depressed with the responses to the story. Your reviews are all wonderful, but...uhm...declining in general number compared to the other stats. So please, are you just too shy (g), or is the story itself becoming boring or too predictable?

Dear readers and lurkers, tell me what you think! This story is written for your (and my) enjoyment, so if there are parts in this chapter you like, tell me! And if there are parts you do not like, tell me! Come on, at least one new lurker should tell me his/her opinion this time:o) The next chapter will be up next week, if I can manage it, as I move that week. ;o)


	18. 17 Horrid Truth

**A/N 1:** All right, I hope that is not confusing to you, but in the middle of the chapter I change from 'Estel' to 'Aragorn'. Tell me if you like it or not, and I will change it back if it bothers you. Happy reading!

**A/N 2:** Many thanks for the wonderful reviews! They showed me that there _are_ people out there who like my story. And because _you_ took the time to tell me your opinion, _I_ post this chapter now. I had planned to post on sunday, but deserve a quicker update!

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_"Sometimes the truth is worse than our imagination."_

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**Chapter 17: "Horrid truths"**

Around midnight, Legolas had woken the twins and after some hastily drowned tea and some food, they had mounted their horses and set out into the night. Hours had passed since then, and Legolas felt tense like a bowstring. With every step that his horse took, his feeling of dread and danger increased, and he could not shake it off as the normal nightly dangers.

He glanced around at the dark forest, but except the trees and the underbrush his keen eyes saw nothing. The moon was veiled behind clouds, and the sparse light created more shadows than it chased away. Even if a troll hid in the forest nearby, he would not have seen it.

Sighing inwardly and loosening his death grip on the reins, Legolas chided himself for his jumpiness. Nothing had attacked them and there was no sign that anything would happen. The woods were quiet but for the normal sounds of nocturnal animals, and not even the trees talked of danger.

A quick glance at Elrohir and Elladan told him that the twins were doing well, and their posture spoke of no immediate danger. So, why was he then feeling the sense of evil lingering in these woods?

Legolas shook his head and released a sigh. Perhaps the last days were taking their toll upon him, and the lack of decent sleep and the fear for Estel were wracking havoc on his senses. His horse snorted softly, and he patted the neck affectionately.

_Great, Legolas, now you are already irritating your own horse!_

But, alas, the uneasy feeling would not leave his stomach. He needed something to take his mind off the fear and danger. He needed…a distraction! But, what could serve his purpose here? He thought about that for a moment, and then suddenly he sat up straighter and a smirk crossed his face.

_That's it!_

He asked sweetly, "Dan? Ro?"

Both twins turned to look at him and answered simultaneously, "Yes?"

Legolas narrowed his eyes and asked in a humorous tone that clearly stated that he wanted to have an answer, "Do you remember the stew?" He could tell from their wrinkled noses and scrunched up faces that they clearly remembered.

"Well, before we ate, we all went into the forest to scan the area. Estel and I returned without incident, but when you returned, I had the feeling that something was not right, that something had happened that you wished not to tell us…"

Elladan gave his twin a strange look, but before he could stop Elrohir, the younger twins burst out,

"You should have seen him, Legolas! It was so funny!"

"Ro! You traitor!" Elladan tried to give his brother a shove, but Elrohir turned away and gave his brother a mock glare.

"I am no traitor. We only vowed not to tell Estel. But we can tell Legolas, he is old enough and can cope with the horror of the story."

Frowning, Elladan tilted his head to the side slightly, "We did? I can't remember. Anyways, this is no story for a night as dark and foreboding as this."

Now truly curious, Legolas leaned forwards on his horse. "What happened, Ro? Tell me, please."

Giving his brother another look of amusement and ignoring the death glares that Elladan sent him, Elrohir leaned back in his saddle, cleared his throat, and began the story,

"There we were, two grown up, fierce warriors, with the grace of the elves and the patience of the firstborn…"

Legolas grinned. This was going to be good, and furthermore it would help soothe his nerves. After all, stories about the misadventures of the twins were usually good, and a story that they had tried to keep from Estel was going to be even better.

_Estel will be delighted when I tell him this story, of that I am sure._

--oOo--

Gandalf sat back in his overstuffed chair and sighed deeply. The fire warmed his body, but his heart felt as cold as the snow on the Hithaeglir, and a feeling of dread filled his stomach. For hours a long time he had listened to Elrond's voice, telling him of all that had happened to his sons and the Prince of Mirkwood.

Heaving another great sigh, the Istar looked at Elrond. His old friend sat slumped in his chair, the face paler than usual and the normally clean and neat robes, crinkled. The Lord of Imladris looked suddenly so old, and Gandalf could almost see the great boulder of worry and fear that weighted down on his shoulders.

Setting his empty goblet down on a small side table, he said not unfriendly, "Elrond, you are tired. Get some sleep."

For a moment, Elrond did not move at all, and Gandalf asked himself whether he had heard him. But then, Elrond sighed and closed his eyes. Even a blind orc could tell that he was tired, and there was no point in hiding it.

With eyes still closed, he spoke heavily, "Mithrandir, old friend, what am I to do? I do not know what kind of poison they used, and I know no cure. What if…what if they are already dead?"

"They are not, for I can still feel them in the future. Listen to your heart and what it tells you, Elrond. And as to the poison, I think I have an idea."

Elrond's eyes snapped open so fast that Gandalf would have chuckled, had their situation not been so grave. Instead, he simply lifted a bushy eyebrow and looked at the agitated elf Lord.

"Mithrandir, is that the truth? What kind of idea? Tell me, please, and ease my heart!"

The old wizard moved a hand through his long beard before he answered, and his voice was guarded as he did,

"I promise nothing, Elrond, and, please, understand that it is only an idea…"

"Yes, yes, I understand. Mithrandir…" Elrond was now sitting on the edge of his seat, and now more than ever he reminded Gandalf of the twins. This father could be as impatient as his sons sometimes.

Clearing his throat, he wagged a finger in Elrond's direction. "When I have told you, promise me to get some sleep and something to eat as soon as you have rested, Elrond Peredhel."

"Mithrandir…" Elrond sounded impatient and annoyed, but Gandalf simply raised his other eyebrow as well, and so the mighty elf lord replied, "All right, I promise. Now, tell me."

Nodding in acceptance, the Istar spoke in his deep voice that seemed to fill the whole room,

"You know I have traveled wide and far and have been in many villages that others do not even know about. Once, some years ago, I stopped in a small and nearly abandoned town not that far from Tharbad. The great flood after the Fell Winter had destroyed most of the town, but there were still people living there. Well, be that as it may, the point is, to my surprise a skilled potion maker lived there. I cannot remember his name, but I still remember that he knew a lot about herbs and potions. He also had a great assortment of old books and scrolls. You know that I cannot let my fingers in my pockets when I find old books. They are so fascinating and full of untold stories and information. Did you know that…"

"Mithrandir, please…" the voice of Elrond piped up softly. Both of them knew of the Istar's habit to digress while telling stories.

Mumbling an apology, Gandalf resumed his tale, "Well, this man seemed to be skilled and he had some ancient books of herb lore that I had never seen before. I tried to buy them, but he would not sell them, and so I left the village and never returned. Perhaps, and only perhaps, I can find something about the poison in his old books. As you have told me you have researched in your own library, so I take it that going to Orthanc will be pointless, as your library holds more books on herbology than Saruman's. And Minas Tirith is too far away anyway."

While Gandalf spoke, the face of Elrond lightened imperceptibly. As it seemed, he was not convinced that this man could help them. But, they had no other option left, and ere his sons and Legolas were back, there was nothing they could do.

Therefore, he nodded and gazed at the wizard. "We will try to find the man and speak with him."

"No, I will try. Elrond, you will stay here in case your sons and Legolas return. If what we fear comes true, and they are seriously ill by the time they come home, they will need your help."

And in his thoughts he added, 'And I want you to be with your children should it come to the worst'. But he did not say it loud and instead got up from his chair. Shuffling over to Elrond, he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"And now, Elrond Peredhel, it is time to take a nap. Do not worry, I will not leave ere you wake."

It seemed as if Elrond wanted to protest, but then he nodded, rose to his feet and walked slowly to the door. Before he left he turned and gave the wizard a warm glance, "Hannon le, mellon nin."

Inclining his head, Gandalf smiled and watched his friend leaving the room to get some badly needed rest. Morning would come in a few hours, and so Gandalf left the room as well and made his way to the kitchens. He was not truly hungry, but he wanted to leave at first light and to eat now would save him time later.

While he silently walked down the dark hallways of the Last Homely House, his thoughts turned towards the twins, Estel and Legolas, and the bad feeling that he had had earlier returned full force.

_My good friends, how do you manage to get into so much trouble on such a regular basis?_

--oOo--

The night was cold and the wind that blew over the dark mountains made him shiver. Hador had watched all that had happened between Dagnir and the ranger, and for the umpteenth time he wondered why the white-haired Gondorian did not simply killed the ranger. It would have been so easy.

Leaning against the rocks in his back and tightening the cloak and blanket around his shoulders, he stretched out his legs and gazed into the dark clearing. The fire had burned low and the red glow was not enough to show him the motionless figure of the ranger, but Hador knew that the man was still there. Where else should he be?

A stiffness had settled in his body due to the cold and the long hours of vigilance, and Hador hated all of that. He hated the coldness, he hated the clearing, and he hated Dagnir. Not for the first time he touched his neck and the bandage that Podlim had wound around his neck to keep the shallow cut clean.

Anger flared in his eyes and when a sharp pain raced through his body because the cut had become infected despite his best efforts, he cursed Dagnir silently. Oh, sooner or later he would get his revenge, and he would make sure that Dagnir suffered greatly.

Again his eyes darted away into the dark clearing and to the spot where the ranger lay asleep on the wet grass.

_Aye, he will pay._

--oOo--

The weak sun warmed the earth and melted the frost on grass and bush, waking the animals from their slumber and welcomed the new day. White fluffy clouds had replaced the gray clouds of the night, and the day promised to be a sunny.

Estel could not tell what it was that woke him, and with a soft grunt he rolled onto his side, "Too early, ada." As no one answered him, he frowned tiredly and opened his heavy eyelids. To his surprise, he saw not the soft pillows and blankets of his bed or his room at home, but green grass that glittered wet in the morning sun.

Confused and very thirsty he sat up, and when he let his eyes look around the clearing, his memories rushed back with such a force that he had to close his eyes again to not to swoon. And with his memories and the state of full awareness, he suddenly felt the pain that sprang to life inside his body.

Moaning in agony and wrapping his arms around his chest, he held his breath and tried to sit as still and unmoving as possible. A sharp pain pierced his breast and a fire filled his lungs, burning brighter than the fires of Mount Doom.

Long moments passed, but the pain would not go away, and Estel needed to breathe. Timidly, he took in a shallow breath and gasped in pain as the fire inside his chest turned into molten lava that assaulted his entire being.

Moaning, he lay down on the grass once more, but no matter how gentle he tried to be, the movement jarred his broken ribs and he gasped in pain. His face was as pale as freshly fallen snow and cold sweat stood on his brow. His body trembled from the pain, and every tiny movement caused his ribs to hurt even more.

So he lay there, eyes clenched shut and breath shallow, until the worst of the pain subsided and he dared to take deeper breaths. He had never before been in such agony, not even when he had fallen from a tree in his youth and broken his leg so badly his father had to break it anew to set the bone correctly. No, this was far worse.

When he deemed it not suicidal any longer to move, Estel rolled onto his back to ease the pressure on his ribs. As soon as he moved, the pain flared up again, but he bit it back and continued what he was doing. Panting, he then lay on his back. But all the pain was worth it, because as soon as he lay on his back, he could breathe easier, and the pain in his ribs decreased.

He felt the warm sun shine down on him, and the yellow glow that penetrated his closed eyelids encouraged him to open his eyes. But when he finally did, he wished he had not. The rays of Arnor stung like needles in his eyes and they watered instantly. Shutting them and counting to five, he reopened them and this time the sun stung as well, but not that fierce.

Estel saw the blue sky above him, and for some minutes he simply watched the white clouds sail lazily over the firmament. The singing of a bird reached his ears, but this time he was not annoyed by the little bird that had greeted him every morning since he had set foot into this clearing. On the contrary, the sweet song of the animal soothed his nerves and he felt his pain reduce to a dull throbbing.

Sleep tugged at his senses, but he forced his heavy lids to stay open and willed his sleepiness away. He needed to make sure that he was not injured life threateningly. And furthermore, he did not know whether Dagnir had hurt him while he had been asleep.

The thought of the man made him shiver involuntarily, and he felt disgusted at himself for his weakness. Taking a breath as deep as his broken ribs allowed, he calmed himself down somewhat. But it was not enough to suppress the sick feeling in his stomach that spoke of panic.

Taking another breath and releasing the air slowly, he forced himself to begin his examination. At least five of his ribs were broken, he knew that already, and his injured knee hurt terribly as Dagnir had crushed it under his weight. But the pain was bearable and he hoped that no more damage was done to it. His head was pounding, but it was only a slight pain compared to his other hurts, and nothing more than the aftereffects of the liquid he had been forced to drink.

Sighing shallowly, he gulped. He knew that he could no longer ignore the agony that engulfed his right hand. It throbbed and burned, and the thought of the burn alone made his stomach queasy. Oh no, Aragorn had no wish to look at his hand and see the severe damage that Dagnir had caused, but he knew that there was no other way.

Slowly, so as not to aggravate his ribs and cause another wave of pain, he lifted his right arm and held it before his face. Upon his silent count to three, he twisted his hand to get a look at the back of his hand.

What he saw made him light headed, and he had to look away quickly. His stomach felt sick all of a sudden, and he swallowed thickly a few times to suppress his urge to heave. Cold sweat stood on his brow and his breathing was quick and shallow.

Steeling his nerves, he pressed his lips into a thin line, turned his head and took another look at his hand. The sight was horrible, but he forced himself to not look away, but examine the injury more closely.

Nearly the whole back of his hand was scorched. Besides his fingers, there was no patch of skin left untouched. The flesh was black, and red; blood had seeped from the wound and dried on the burned skin, crusted it and created disgusting patterns. He flexed his fingers weakly, and such an intense pain seared through his hand that he gasped. When he moved his fingers, he could see the white of his knuckles shine through the now thin skin, and a moan escaped his lips.

Trembling, he let his hand sink to the ground once more and closed his eyes. This was even worse than he had imagined, and he suppressed the urge to scream in frustration and anger. This was his sword hand, by the Valar! How was he ever supposed to wield a sword again? And the scarring…

No, he would not think of that yet. He was alive and considering the madness of Dagnir relatively well. With a bit of luck his brothers were already searching for him, and this nightmare would soon end. And had Dagnir not told him that he did not know how long the poison would render him immobile? So maybe the man did not even know what the poison was doing, and therefore there was the possibility that it was not lethal.

_As if…No, think positive! Where has your strength gone? And your pride? Your positive attitude and your ability to see light even in the darkest nights? Get a grip on yourself. You are no child any longer, and a man such as Dagnir cannot break you if you don't let him!_

Aragorn took a shallow breath and then another and another. Slowly, his anxiety, fear and near panic subsided.

_You are a son of Elrond! You are not only Estel, but Strider and Aragorn as well. Maybe the time at home has softened me, but to survive now, I have to be strong!_

He closed his eyes tightly and let all the anger, hurt and despair that he felt wash over him in a huge wave. And when he opened his eyes once more, the grey orbs burned with a new glimmer. From one moment to the other, he had let Estel behind and had turned into Strider and Aragorn at the same time.

His brothers and father had once told him that they found it amazing that he could change so drastically from one person to the other, and he had explained to them that he was all these persons, but that from time to time one of them had to get the upper hand. And that was what had happened now. Estel, the mirthful person that he had been during most of his life had retreated and Aragorn, the strong and proud man had emerged. But what all his characters had in common, were his sense of humor and his unchangeable ability to find hope even in the blackest pit of Mordor.

Sighing, he slowly sat up, one arm braced against his ribs. The pounding in his head had reduced to a dull ache that he could ignore, but he felt suddenly very thirsty. Looking around, he searched for his pack, until he remembered that Dagnir had told him that he would take away his supplies.

Spotting his pack not that far away from where he sat on the ground, he reached for it with his good left hand. Gasping, he stopped midway and stared at his hand.

_No, no!_

But there was no denying it. The Ring of Barahir was gone, and Aragorn knew that there could only be one explanation: Dagnir.

--oOo--

Legolas laughed so hard that his sides hurt. The picture that Elrohir's words created in his mind were so funny . And the face Elladan made when his brother imitated him scrambling up the tree, only served to make him laugh harder.

Wiping a tear from his eye and calming down enough to speak, Legolas said, "A skunk! By all animals in Middle-earth, you are afraid of a skunk, Elladan?"

"I am not afraid of skunks!" the older twin snapped. "Ro is exaggerating."

Elrohir simply shook his head, but Legolas let the matter drop. He could see the sun climb up from behind the Misty Mountains, and they had made good progress during the night. He knew that they would soon reach the place where the rumbling had come from, and he hoped that they would then finally find Estel.

The fear that had settled in his heart had dissolved a little through the story of the skunk, but now that they neared their destination, his uneasy feeling became stronger. He did not know what awaited them, but he felt that whatever it was, it was not good.

The sun wove beautiful patterns on the forest ground, and he could feel the warmth on his face. Although winter was approaching and trees were loosing their leaves, he liked this time of year, when the seasons changed and old life gave way to coldness and, then, new life in the spring.

The trees whispered and talked to him, but he was not listening intently, and so their murmur washed over him like a feather danced on the wind. It was soothing to his nerves, and when he gazed at the twins, he could see that even they, being no Wood-elves, were soothed by the whispering leaves.

The sun rose higher, and around midday they saw the first rock outcroppings appear behind the high underbrush of the forest, and the trees thinned. They had reached the slopes of the Misty Mountains.

They stopped their horses and the animals snorted softly, their hot breath misting in the air. The temperatures in the shadows of the Hithaeglir were lower than in the shade of the forest, but it was not cold enough yet to worry the elves.

Elrohir turned his head left and right, and then gazed up at the peaks of the Misty Mountains. The sun glittered on the white snow that covered the peaks, and a lake high up the side of the mountain range shimmered reflected the sun. A cold wind blew down the slopes and the spare grass that grew here between the stones bend under its force.

"What do you think? Left or right? The ranger camp is in the north of course, but we do not know how far Estel has come."

Elladan gazed to the north, "North, I'd say. Don't ask me why, it is just a feeling. I know we turned south on purpose, but well…"

Following the twin's gaze, Legolas tucked a wayward strand of blond hair behind his ear, "Aye, I think we should head northwards. I told you of the rumbling I heard, and I would like to investigate that. And furthermore, the tracks I found led north."

Nodding, the twins heeled their horses and Legolas followed them as they rode northwards. Elladan picked the conversation up again, "Yes, you can be sure that where ever there are rumbling and crashing sounds, Estel is not far. Ro, do you remember the one time when he was ten and managed to break through the flet that Glorfindel had made?"

Elrohir nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes! Legolas, you should have seen Glorfindel's face, it was priceless. You know, he had just built that flet and declared precocious that it would survive even the most fiercest of storms because he had used strong branches etc, and then Estel, who stood on it, jumped up and down to test it, and then he simply broke through!"

Elladan giggled in remembrance, "I swear, I have never seen Glorfindel turn that shade of white and then green. Not to mention the purple red after we had freed Estel from the flet."

It was true, the youngest Elrondion had a knack of finding trouble, but until now, they had always managed to get him out afterwards. And Legolas hoped that this time would be no different.

He just tried to imagine the look on the face of the golden haired Gondolin elf as Estel had broken through his 'perfect' talan, when his keen ears picked up a soft sound. Instantly his instincts kicked in and he gestured for the twins to be silent. Seeing the look of concern and concentration on his face, they stilled quickly and eyed him curiously.

Legolas shook his head and then gestured to his ears to tell them that he had heard something, then he dismounted and led his horse into the dense underbrush. Some high bushes grew here and they would hide the animals from searching eyes. The twins followed his lead, and soon they were sneaking through the forest like spiders through the trees in Mirkwood. They made no sound and the colors of their tunics melted with their surrounding.

After hushing through the forest for some minutes, Legolas suddenly stopped. He heard it again, and now he could finally make out the sound: Voices! Looking at the twins he saw that they heard it now, too, and their faces turned grim. They all knew that travelers seldom ventured into these parts, and they knew firsthand that the rangers had no activities here at the moment.

No, whoever that was, it had to be the ones they were searching for. Silently, they made their way through the forest, following the voices. Soon, they could distinguish two voices, one was deep, the other a bit higher, and both speakers were making no attempt at speaking softly.

The nearer they came, the clearer the words became, and then they could make out the words. What they heard was a normal conversation. The two men, for it were men, were talking about food and water supplies, the weather and the fact that one of them had to go soon and collect some firewood for the coming night.

Actually, the two men were arguing because neither of them wanted to go into the forest and leave the cozy place in front of the warm fire.

Curious but still wary, they crept nearer and lay flat on the ground behind a huge evergreen bush. Locking eyes, they all nodded, and then they slowly peeled the branches away so as to create a gap in the bush to see through. The branches gave way without making a sound, and then they could finally see the two men.

It were three, actually, but one of them was sleeping soundly a few feet away from the other two. One of the men had wavy red hair, the other, taller one, brown hair. They watched for some minutes and listened to their arguing. They could tell that the red haired man felt inferior towards the tall and slim man, but he would not back down from his position that it was not his turn to go and fetch firewood.

The other man suddenly wagged his thumb at the other, and the elves could see that he had only four fingers on his right hand; the index finger was missing. Furthermore, the man had a bandage wound around his neck, and they wondered what had happened to cause injury in that vulnerable spot.

They could not make out the third man, as he was sleeping on his side, facing away from them. He was wrapped in a blanket and seemingly deep asleep, as not even the loud arguing of his companions seemed to disturb him.

Legolas let his eyes roam over the site, and he could see that behind the two men, a high rock wall rose into the sky. It was so huge that he could not look over the rim and see what lay beyond, and he doubted that he could see it even if he climbed the huge oak that grew only a few yards to their left.

There must have been an entrance, or a gap between the rock walls, for there was a huge pile of boulders, stones and rocks blocking it. It looked as if an avalanche had come down here recently; there were no moss or lichens on the stones and the grass around the area was still littered with smaller pebbles, dust and sand. Had the rockslide happened some time ago, the wind and rain would have washed the grass clean from the sand. No, it must have happened only recently, and suddenly Legolas knew it had been this rockslide that he had heard and whose dust cloud he had seen.

He tugged at Elladan's sleeve, and gestured at the rocks. The twin narrowed his eyes, and after a few seconds tugged at Elrohir's sleeve. The younger twin had already noticed the stones and simply nodded, indicating that he saw it as well. Elrohir shrugged with his shoulders and pointed behind him. He had seen and heard enough.

Aside from the three men, the camp was empty. There was no sign that Estel had been here, and there was no point in hiding behind the bushes. Perhaps they would find a trace of him further northwards.

Legolas and Elladan nodded, and they silently let the branches of the evergreen bush fall back into place. Just as Elladan was about to let go of the last green branch, he froze in his motions. His face paled and his eyes grew wide, his mouth opened involuntarily in shock.

Elrohir and Legolas gazed at him surprised and then swiveled their heads back to the camp. Whatever had shocked the older twin was in the camp, so they peered through the branches, scanning the area. Suddenly they both gasped silently and their faces paled to the same shade Elladan's showed.

The third man had turned over in his sleep, the blanket falling away from his shoulders, and his face was now plainly visible to the elves. But what they saw could not be true, and at least Legolas knew that the man he was staring at was dead.

But he knew that he was not imagining things. There before him lay Dagnir, the white-haired Gondorian, who had kidnapped Estel and the little boy Taran three years ago. Who was responsible for him nearly dying, and who had calmly ordered that the twins be killed. This man was evil, he was mad.

And suddenly, Legolas's eyes wandered to the place of the rockslide, and he knew somehow that his friend was caught in there. What other reason was there for the men to camp here ?

Elladan and Elrohir were so flabbergasted that they stared openmouthed at the sleeping human. Numerous thoughts were running through their minds, most of them horrible visions of things that had happened three years ago, and of things that could have happened to their little brother.

For long minutes they lay behind the bush and watched the man who should be dead. Then, some words from the conversation of the two other men reached their sensitive ears. As it seemed, they had finished arguing about faggot, and were now speaking about more serious matters.

The man with the missing finger and the brown hair asked, "And, what do ye think? How long will whitey here keep that ranger alive?"

Legolas's heart nearly stopped. Ranger? That had to be Estel, he was sure of it. He listened intently, as did the twins. All were holding their breaths; at least, Estel was still alive.

The other man shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. If he carries through with his plan, he will not kill him at all. The poison will do that as you well know."

Elladan swallowed thickly. Estel was poisoned, and so were they. Now they had the truth, and all their fears had come true. With a lump in his throat, he thought about the effects the venom had had on him and Elrohir, and shuddered as he thought about his human brother. They were only partly human, the mortal blood in their veins was very thin, almost non existent. But Estel…

Similar thoughts raced through Elrohir's mind, and when he heard the next words, a shudder crawled down his spine.

"Ye know, Podlim, if you ask me, that ranger should have died in that rockslide, and not only that horse. Would have made things much more easier. For him and for us. Sitting here all day and waiting for the miserable wretch to die in that stone prison…" The man snorted in disgust and licked his lips agitatedly.

The other man nodded almost shyly, and then gestured into the direction of the rock walls that reflected the weak midday sun, "Has Dagnir not told you to release Morgwath of his watch?"

The brown haired human gave the sleeping Dagnir an unreadable look and then stood up. Stretching, he took a deep breath, "Aye. Better hurry, that strange, black haired lad gives me the creeps. Never speaking, never laughing, something's not right with that man."

And with that, he took up his bow and sword and moved towards the rock wall that loomed at the other edge of the clearing. Podlim stared after his retreating form for a moment, and then gazed into the flames of the little fire that burned in the clearing.

Legolas had seen and heard enough. Making eye contact with his friends, he gestured behind him, and after some moments of hesitation the twins followed him. Stealthy as cats they moved away from the campsite, took their horses' reins and headed away into the deep forest. Only when they were sure that they were far enough away to not be caught, they stopped.

Elladan was agitated. He could not stand still, ruffled his hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. Elrohir simply stared at the forest around them, and Legolas felt too stunned to do anything. Memories raced through his mind, and he felt vividly reminded of a night, three years ago, when he had lain in hiding next to a campsite, listening to a similar conversation and feeling the same dread and dark sense of foreboding that even now gnawed at his stomach.

None of them could easily believe what they had seen. Dagnir was alive. And not only that, he had captured their friend and brother, had drugged them and was now watching Estel suffer and die.

Suddenly, Elladan turned on his heel, and his eyes blazed as he looked at Elrohir and Legolas. His voice shook as he spoke, but it brooked no argument,

"We are going in there, and we will free Estel, no matter what. And Dagnir will see what he gets when he hurts a Son of Elrond!"

Tbc…

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**That was it, the new chapter! What do you think?**


	19. 18 Attack!

**Hy! Thank you for your patience! Here is the new chapter, and I hope this works, as my internet connection keeps angering me. Happy reading! I am sorry that I cannot send review replies (again), but I am kicked out of the net every few minutes. I am sorry!**

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"_None who have always been free can understand the terrible fascinating power of the hope of freedom to those who are not free."_

_Pearl S. Buck_

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Chapter 18: Attack!

Night settled early over the forest, as winter was now at the borders of the lands. The snow on the peaks of the Misty Mountains glimmered in the silver starlight, but the slopes and rock walls on the edge of the clearing were dark and gloomy. In only a few days the moon would be full, lighting the lands in bright moonlight.

Dagnir had not only taken away Aragorn's weapons, food, water and herbs, but his blankets as well. At least he still had his cloak. Without the means and energy to kindle a fire, Aragorn sat in the darkness and cold, shivering slightly. A soft breeze came down from the mountains, and already his hands felt frozen and his feet became numb.

Aragorn gazed up at the stars, his only connection to the world outside his stone prison. His searching eyes soon found Eärendil, the brightest of all stars, and with a heavy sigh he rested his head on the tree he was sitting against.

The coldness of the day and the night eased the pain in his burned hand and broken ribs, but still, with every movement he did, they reminded him of his helpless position as a plaything for Dagnir. Suddenly, Aragorn felt anger well up inside of him; he did not know what had triggered it, but he could not stop his feelings of hate.

Frowning, he averted his gaze from Eärendil and instead gazed out into the night around him. When his look met with the impenetrable wall of rocks and stones that blocked the entrance, his heart beat faster. Maybe he could not get out via the way he had entered, but leaving this tomb, he would.

_And if it is the last thing I ever do, I will get out of here!_

His searching gaze traveled further, along the rock walls, the grass, the clearing, always looking and searching, although he did not know what it was he was looking for in the near complete darkness of the night.

When his eyes reached the spot where he had started, having found nothing helpful, Aragorn sighed once more. He was not sure, but he had the feeling that someone was watching him, and the thought alone was enough to make him feel uneasy. But, he thought, when I cannot see them in this blackness, they can probably not see me.

Feeling a little comforted by the thought, he shifted his position on the ground slightly, trying to ease the pain in his broken ribs. When pain like a bolt of lighting raced through his chest at the attempt, he was once again glad that Dagnir had started with the thinner and smaller ribs of his ribcage, and not with the ones that sat higher. Had it been the other way round, he knew, he would not be able to move at all.

Suddenly, a sound reached his ears, like rolling pebbles. Peering into the darkness, his heart skipped at beat. Was Dagnir coming back? Or one of the other men that served this madman? Aragorn strained his ears to hear more, and then, the sound of a falling rock met his ears. It sounded as if it was tumbling down the stone walls, bouncing off the rocks and then hitting the wet grass with a thud.

And in the moment the rock hit the earth and stillness once more settled over the clearing, Aragorn smiled. Hope flared to new life in his chest, and his face lit almost imperceptibly. Now he knew what he would do, the way to escape.

Had he been in the shape to do so, he would have kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner, but as it was, he simply shook his head at his own blindness. Being imprisoned by walls of stone, thick grey rock that made every escape attempt impossible, had probably just heightened his dislike for stone, and therewith veiled his escape route.

For, Aragorn thought, this rockslide was large and strong enough to let two walls collapse. It had shaken the mountains and moved tons of stone and debris. But what was even more important was a fact he had not yet taken into account. The strength of the rockslide had damaged the other walls of this prison; Aragorn had seen the cracks and fissures during the day and while he had been rendered immobile by the poison. For hours he had stared at the rock walls, trying to take his mind off Dagnir; he had started counting the white rocks that contrasted against the grey ones, he had played with the thought of throwing Dagnir from the ledges, he had tried to see images in the stones and…he had inspected the cracks and fissures in the rock walls.

Maybe the rockslide had not only loosened the stones that had then eventually tumbled down from the mountains, but had also opened caves or cracks where there had been none before? Aragorn knew that the chance for it to be so was slim to none, but…

Once more his eyes searched the rock walls, but now he was not looking for a way up the walls, but for a way through the walls. For nearly an hour Aragorn sat motionless on the wet grass, feeling the coldness of the night on his skin and the pain radiating through his body, but then, suddenly, his breathing hitched in his throat.

Was there…had he truly seen it? Aragorn sat up straighter and peered intently into the darkness. The moon was now standing above the left rock wall, and in the silver light of moon and stars, Aragorn thought he had seen something.

There! One spot on the wall was even darker than the rest, standing out even in the silver moonlight. Aragorn let his gaze wander over the rock walls, trying to see if someone was watching him, but it was too dark to make out the upper edges of the rock walls, and he saw no movement. No light being reflected on swords, no flame that lit a pipe and therewith gave away its owner.

It was risky and dangerous, no doubt, but this black spot on the rock wall could be a cave or tunnel that had opened during the rockslide. On his first evening in the clearing, Aragorn had made sure that there were no caves or such, as bears and other creatures inhabited caves during winter; Aragorn had no intention on being eaten while he slept.

So, Aragorn was more than certain that this particular cave had not been there when he had first inspected the rock walls. Aragorn bit his bottom lip. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to see more, but it was no use; he could only hope that it was indeed a cave and not only some deep crack in the wall.

That is foolish, I will never make it out of here. They won't let me. But still,… 

Aragorn took a deep breath, and he knew that he had to make a decision. He could not sit here all night, debating whether it was a good idea or not. Dagnir could come back any moment, making sure that he still lived or ached or whatever that madman had in mind. Furthermore, it would soon be midnight, and if he planned on escaping, he should do it soon, before the moon rose any higher.. But what has the moon to do with it? on the contrary I would expect him to wait for the moon to set to do the climb in the cover of darkness. -->

Suddenly, Aragorn shook his head with a wry grin.

What am I debating this at all? Of course I will try to escape. Better to die trying, than to sit here and wait to become food for the worms and carrion beetles._. -->_

And with that, he got slowly to his feet, bracing his bad arm against his broken ribs, and his other against the tree in his back to steady his aching leg. During the day, his knee had started to pound rhythmically, and Aragorn feared that Dagnir had caused more damage than he had initially thought. An examination had shown him blue and black skin that was hot and tender to the touch. Besides being badly swollen and very painful, of course.

Aragorn took another deep breath, and then resolutely set out into the night, into the direction of the rock wall where he had seen the black spot. The wet grass muffled his steps and the night veiled his tall frame, and soon he had left the tree behind him and had become one with the shadows.

--oOo--

Hador licked his lips and watched the dark figure in the clearing sneak towards the rock wall he was sitting on. For hours the ranger had sat still and unmoving in the darkness, only now and then shifting to probably ease the pain in his ribs. But then, he had suddenly clambered to his feet and made his way over to the rock wall.

Hador had no problem seeing the ranger; for a human, his eyes were very keen and his long years as a hunter had trained his vision to see even the slightest movement in the dark. He saw how the ranger made it from shadow to shadow, always hiding from the light of the moon and the stars, and Hador felt admiration well up inside of him for the skill and determination the man showed.

He knew that the injuries the rockslide and Dagnir had afflicted upon him had to hurt terribly, but the ranger was nevertheless making good progress, not once stopping to wait for the pain in his body to subside.

A shame I will kill him, he could have made a good outlaw, that one.

Hador lifted his bow, notched an arrow and aimed at Aragorn, intent on shooting him so that he would not come too near to the rock wall. But then, a thought came to him. Why was the ranger making for the rock wall, and under the cover of night? Surely he was not truly trying to flee?

The thought made him smirk. The walls were so high, not even a healthy man could have climbed them easily, and a wounded one at night…never. But, what was the ranger doing? Hador licked his lips again, and then lowered his bow.

Now that his curiosity was piqued, he wanted to know what the ranger was up to. He watched Aragorn come nearer and nearer, and then reach the rock wall slightly to the left of him. To Hador's surprise, the ranger moved along the wall for some moments, and then…vanished.

What the… 

Squinting, the hunter tried to make out where in the name of Sauron the ranger had gone. He moved to the right until he could see the spot where the ranger had vanished, and when his eyes beheld the wall, he grinned wickedly.

That was even better than killing the ranger, he thought. Dagnir would get a fit when he learned his prisoner had escaped. The thought made Hador grin maliciously; it was the perfect way to get his revenge on that white-haired madman. But then, his grin widened even further.

I wonder what Dagnir's face would look like, should he learn that I had to kill the ranger because he tried to escape…

And with that, Hador slung his bow over his back and silently made his way down the steep rock wall. It might be difficult to reach the ground and take some time, but he would try it nevertheless. That ranger would not escape his bow!

--oOo--

"All right then, lets get through it one last time. Legolas, you climb that huge oak at the edge of the camp. Elladan, you attack from the right and I attack from the left. Understood?"

Elrohir looked at his companions expectantly, and when he saw their heads nod in grim determination, he nodded as well. They had debated and schemed, but now they had agreed on a plan.

In the middle of the night, when the stars were the brightest and the moon high, they would attack the camp, hoping that the human would get to bed without setting a watch. Legolas sighed inwardly, so much could go wrong. They had only seen three humans, but they knew that there were four. The man who had left the campsite had told of relieving the fourth of his watch.

To say that they were nervous was the understatement of the century, but they were not truly worried about their own lives. They were three relatively healthy elves against four humans; the odds were good. But they were concerned about Estel. No one could say how it looked inside the stone prison and in what condition he was in. Perhaps the fourth human was keeping him 'company', and should anyone try to help him flee, he would kill Estel. They did not know, but they all hoped that that was not the case.

Fingering the fletching of his arrow absentmindedly, Legolas looked over his shoulder back at the way they had come. The woods were dark and quiet, and he could not even make out the fire of the humans.

Strange, he thought, that I should encounter Dagnir again, and under such similar circumstances. It is almost as if the past repeats itself. Seeing Dagnir alive and well had shocked him, and for the shortest of moments he had truly asked himself whether it was possible that the Valar had sent the man back. But that was not possible; never before had a human come back from the Halls of Mandos.

"Legolas?" Elladan asked softly. His own nervousness and tension were clearly readable on his features. He feared for Estel.

"Yes?"

"Estel will be well, you'll see. Now let's go and rescue him, before he feels homely in there." Elladan tried to lighten the tension, but Legolas only managed a half-hearted smile and nodded.

They locked eyes with each other, seeing their own hopes and fears reflected in the others' eyes, and then they turned resolutely and made their way over to the camp. Silent they were, like shadows in the dark. The trees seemed to shelter them and give them cover, the grass flattened under their feet but did not crunch, and the birds and animals of the night eyed them curiously, but gave them not away.

Soon, they reached the edge of the campsite and saw the red glimmer of the fire. The smell of pipe weed and cooked rabbit drifted to their nostrils. Legolas had to mentally restrain himself; in that very moment all he wanted to do was charge the clearing, kill the humans and rescue his friend.

He crouched down, seeking shelter behind a high bush and peered at the men in front of him. He could see the one with the red hair, who was so fond of tangling it with his hand, and he saw Dagnir. His stomach revolted heavily and bile rose in his throat; he hated that man with a passion.

But then, when he leaned a bit to the side, he could see the fourth man. A shudder involuntarily crawled down his spine. The fourth man was tall, black clad and dark haired. The skin was pale and even in the dim light, Legolas could see the cold eyes. Instantly, he knew that whoever this man was, he would put up a good fight before he went down.

_So I will have to kill this man first._ He thought grimly.

The men were sitting around the fire, talking and smoking. None of them seemed overly concerned about being attacked, a fact that filled Legolas's heart with satisfaction. Should they believe to be safe and secure; they would soon learn how wrong they were.

Legolas looked to his left and nodded at Elrohir, then to the right at Elladan. His friends were ready. Silently, the warriors moved towards their positions. They had planned to kill all of the humans except Dagnir.

It had taken a long time to convince Elladan that it was indeed better to let the man live. Estel and the twins were poisoned, no doubt by Dagnir's hand. And if anyone could tell them about the antidote, or probably even had it in his possession, then it was Dagnir. They needed him alive.. -->

Elrohir had proposed to shoot him so that he could not flee, and as he knew of his brother's impulsivity, he would do that. Elladan would kill one of the other men and Legolas the last one. Then they would search for the fourth and rescue Estel.

Hidden by evergreen bushes and dense underbrush, Legolas made his way over to the huge oak. He climbed it swiftly and almost noiselessly, using the nearly leafless branches as support and cover. Not once, and he was very proud of that fact, did he cause a leaf to sail to the ground. Once high enough, some yards from the ground, he settled down on a sturdy branch and fitted an arrow to his bow.

He could have attacked from the ground, but the chances of success were simply better from the oak. And furthermore, should anything go wrong, he would be able to help the twins without being seen. So, he sat still and waited for the agreed on signal.

He took aim at the tall, dark clad human who sat practically in front of him. Some moments passed, and Legolas felt the tension in his back and shoulders. His arms ached from pulling the bowstring taut all the time, and just as he considered switching the bow from his left to his right, he heard the signal.

A shrill chirping, as if from a night bird.

Without thinking, he let go of the arrow and before the arrow had even hit its target, he could hear the twang of two other bows.

It had begun.

--oOo--

Inside the crevice, for it was only a broad crevice and not a cave, Aragorn made good progress. He did not know how thick the rock walls were. From the distance he had already covered, he guessed that he was more than halfway through.

Directly beyond the entrance, the crack had widened, making it possible to walk comfortably. Well, as comfortably as it was possible with five broken ribs, an injured knee and a burned hand. But now, Aragorn began to ask himself whether entering had been such a good idea after all.. -->

The air was stale, and it was so dark that he could not even see his hand before his eyes. Constantly, his feet tripped on rocks and boulders and his shoulders made contact with the walls; it was only due to his tunic that his arms and shoulders were not scratched. But, what was even more worrisome, was the fact that the crevice became tighter by the minute.

Even now, he walked slightly turned, because already the crack was so narrow that his shoulders scraped over the walls. Two times, his head had already connected with the low ceiling, waking up the nasty orc with the blunt axe and sending him to work again. The darkness forced him to practically feel his way around.

And, although he hated to admit it, Aragorn felt tired. The pain in his ribs was sapping his strength and his knee hurt with every step. He hobbled more than he walked and Aragorn could tell from the dull throbbing, that, indeed, Dagnir had caused more damage. With a heavy heart, Aragorn had to admit that more likely than not, blood was even now collecting behind his kneecap. It was a difficult and very agonizing procedure to heal the knee, and it was something that he was not looking forward to.

Aragorn stumbled a few steps further, and then leaned heavily against the wall to his left, taking the weight of his leg. He simply needed some moments of rest. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, although in the complete darkness it made no difference whether they were open or not.

He stood there for some moments when he noticed how silent it suddenly was. While he had been on the move, he had not noticed how much noise he made with his shuffling and stumbling…and soft cursing when he –again- made contact with a protruding rock. Now, all he heard was his own breathing and the rush of blood in his ears.

And then…his heart skipped a beat. A sound reached his ears, distant still and echoing from the walls around him, but there nevertheless. Aragorn's hands felt sweaty suddenly, and he held his breath to listen intently.

Some seconds passed and just when he began to think that he was only imagining things, the sound repeated itself.

Perhaps only a bat or mice… 

But then, he heard it clearly and his heart beat faster. A curse. Someone had cursed behind him.

Great, they are following me, or at least one is on my trail.

With not a moment to loose, he resumed his flight, ignoring the pain in his body and hastening his steps. There was no way he could fight his pursuer in this small space and without weapons. No, the only way lay ahead of him.

Aragorn only hoped that there was indeed a way in front of him, and not a solid stone wall stopping his escape.

The darkness was suddenly darker, his steps louder and his body more tired. Amazing, Aragorn thought, how the mind can play tricks on one. And indeed, he thought he could hear more sounds coming from behind, but in truth there were none.

For long minutes he moved through the tunnellike crevice, bouncing against protruding rocks and walking headlong into turns he could not see when he suddenly truly heard a sound behind him. A tumbling sound, followed by another loud curse.

Whoever was following him, for the voice was not that of Dagnir, must have fallen in the darkness. For a second, Aragorn felt malignant delight well up inside, but it was almost instantly replaced by worry. The sound had been close.

Mobilizing more strength, he strode out wider and hastened on. He could not be caught, and the exit could not be that far ahead anymore.

--oOo--

Hador cursed loudly. Not for the first time, he had made painful contact with one of the sharp rocks that stood out from the walls, but this time he had hit his head and actually fallen to the ground. Besides it being very painful, he felt annoyed.

Was it not enough that he was chasing this damned ranger through this pitch black darkness for…how long? Never had he thought that the ranger would be so fast and resilient. Inwardly, he had thought of find the ranger only a little way inside the crevice, exhausted and in pain, unable to go further.

But no, the man had by now nearly reached the other side, and still he had not reached him. Another rock scraped over his head, and Hador grumbled under his breath. Truly, if he ever laid hands on that ranger, he would kill him without hesitation!

With one hand placed against the rock wall for guidance, he hastened his steps. This cursed ranger would not escape him.

Some more minutes passed, and Hador began to doubt that he would reach the man before he found a way out of the crevice. The distance they had already left behind them was long enough to cross the rock wall, and surely the exit was not far ahead.

Then suddenly, Hador heard something ahead of him that made him smile. Someone had screamed. And it had been the ranger, Hador was certain. Once more quickening his steps, he sped on.

--oOo--

Aragorn stumbled in the darkness, and for a moment he forgot his injured hand and tried to stop his fall by bracing himself against the wall with his right hand. It was a mistake. As soon as his hand made contact with the rocks, and his weight fell on it, a fierce pain shot through his hand and arm. Surprised, Aragorn could not stop the agonized scream that escaped him, but he cut it off quickly.

Cradling his hurting hand to his chest and breathing quickly, he knew that his pursuer must have heard him. And surely, Aragorn could hear shuffling steps behind him. The other man was near. Too near for his liking.

Pulling away from the wall he was leaning on, Aragorn continued on his way to the exit. Sweat stood on his brow, and he could feel it trickle down his back and wet his tunic. In spite of the chill air he felt hot, and he hoped that he had no fever, caused by his numerous wounds.

Not for the first time he wished for water; his mouth felt dry, his tongue swollen and his throat was so scratchy that it hurt. Dagnir had not lied when he had told him that the foul liquid would make him thirsty.

Stumbling again, Aragorn had to suppress the urge to cry out as his knee sent a horrid pain through his leg and crumpled under him. Not able to stop his fall this time, he fell to the hard ground, scraping his hands and arms on the sharp stones.

For a moment, he simply lay there, eyes tightly closed to fight the pain in his ribs and leg. His blood rushed in his ears, and his heart pounded so heavily that he felt every beat in his body.

Get up, get up! 

Taking a shuddering breath and tasting his own blood in his mouth from a split lip, he fought to get to his feet. Using the wall for support, he stood on unsteady feet. Aragorn wiped a trembling hand over his sweaty forehead and peered into the darkness behind him.

The footsteps were still there, and he even thought he heard the ragged breathing of his pursuer. Turning, he glanced in the direction he was going…and his heart missed a beat. There was light! It was not much and so weak that he had to close his eyes and then open them again to be sure, but…there was light at the end of the tunnel! The moon…

Aragorn did not know what awaited him out there, and whether he would walk out of the fire and into the frying pan, but he would risk it, no matter what. Pushing himself off the wall, Aragorn hobbled into the direction of the exit as fast as he could.

But then, suddenly, a voice echoed off the walls, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, ranger!"

--oOo--

Legolas cursed silently in dwarvish. He did not know how the black haired man had done it, but the man had moved to the side in exactly the same moment his arrow should have killed him. Instead of flying true and killing the man, it had only imbedded itself into his left shoulder, so deep that only a part of the shaft was still visible. The shoulder bone must have broken with the impact.

While he notched a second arrow, he saw with great satisfaction that Elladan's arrow had flown true, right through the red haired man's chest. Legolas did not know if the man was dead, but he was not moving any longer, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Letting his arrow fly into the direction of the black haired human, Legolas cursed again as his arrow missed its target by the fraction of an inch. The man grabbed his sword and a pack and before Legolas had another chance of getting a clear aim, he vanished into the forest. Frustrated, Legolas sent two arrows after him, but he was not sure whether he hit him.

Instead of following the man, Legolas scanned the area below; he needed to make sure that his friends were all right and that Dagnir was not able to flee. But he should not have worried. Elrohir's arrow had hits its mark. Legolas actually grinned with satisfaction, and he did not even feel guilty about it.

He jumped lightly from the branch and made his way into the forest. The black haired man must not be allowed to get away to probably alert others.

Legolas rushed through the forest, but soon he noticed the futility of his chase. He neither saw nor heard the human, and in the near complete darkness he could not make out any tracks. Angered and frustrated, he notched another arrow, but he did not shoot. Arrows were rare and he did not know how many he would need before they reached Imladris. Therefore he turned and made his way back to the twins.

Perhaps they would be able to find tracks –the man was bleeding after all- in the morning and then follow him. As it was at the moment, they could do nothing else. With every step that Legolas neared the campsite, guilt built in his heart. Why had his arrow not killed him? He never missed, never! Why now?

Still slamming himself mentally for his bad aim and lack of professionalism, Legolas ran back onto the clearing. Elrohir was kneeling beside the fallen red haired man, and Elladan was standing besides the fallen Dagnir, towering over the human and pointing his sword at him.

Elrohir's arrow had hit Dagnir in the thigh and blood was flowing freely from the wound. Dagnir would go nowhere.

Nodding at Elrohir, Legolas scanned the camp, and after being sure that there were no others, he sidled up to Elladan and gazed down at Dagnir. The fourth man was nowhere to be seen, but Legolas thought to know where he was: Up on the rock wall, making sure that Estel would not escape.

To his surprise, Dagnir was grinning, not at all looking intimidated. Actually, his smirk even widened as he saw Legolas.

"Oh, look what we got here. I knew you would come to save that pathetic whelp."

"Hold your tongue, you miserable wretch!" Elladan growled and lowered the tip of his sword so that it now rested against Dagnir's throat; Elladan's hand trembled slightly.

Legolas could tell from Elladan's expression that the twin wanted nothing more than to lower the sword just a bit more, therewith killing the man who caused them so much pain. Frowning, he wondered why it was Elladan who guarded Dagnir and not Elrohir.

Softly, he asked in Sindarin, "Dan, what is Ro doing over there?"

Without looking at the prince or into the direction Legolas gestured, Elladan answered flatly, "The other one is still alive. Ro is checking on him."

Nodding, Legolas shot a quick look over his shoulder at the younger twin. Elrohir was bend over the fallen man, but from what Legolas could see the twin made no attempt to remove the arrow. The man would not live to see another dawn.

Returning his attention towards Dagnir, Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously. The fact that Dagnir was in no way acting intimidated or frightened angered Legolas. Only with great effort was he able to suppress the urge to strangle the human.

But it seemed, Elladan had more trouble than he to restrain himself. His hand moved another notch lower and the sword shook even more. If looks could kill, Legolas thought, Dagnir would already be on his way to Mandos.

Then, the voice of the human broke the stillness. "You know, he is already dead. Or as good as."

Dagnir's eyes gleamed in anticipation of seeing the elves' surprised faces, and he frowned slightly when they showed no outer feelings. So, he continued, trying another tactic,

"Oh, don't worry. I have not hurt your little pet…life threateningly." He smirked. "He can scream quite loud if hurt, don't you agree?" It was a lie of course, but it hit a tender spot with accuracy.

Seething, Elladan ground out, the sword now so near that it drew a bit of blood, "I warn you, one more word and I will kill you."

But Dagnir knew he would not. With the air of someone who was absolutely certain of something, he stated tonelessly, "You won't. And if you do, the pathetic whelp will die as well."

--oOo--

Elrohir knew that the man would die soon. The arrow had not hit the heart, but it was sitting dangerously close, piercing the lung and causing the man to struggle for each breath. Still debating whether to remove the arrow and grant the man a quick death, or letting the arrow be and therewith buying some time, the man suddenly spoke.

"I knew it was a mistake."

"What was a mistake?" Elrohir asked, surprised that the man was not even pleading for his life or cursing him for not helping him.

The red haired man shook his head sadly, wincing in obvious pain. "I should have never left my home and gone with Dagnir."

Elrohir could not stop himself. "No, indeed. To sign up with madmen is not wise."

Podlim chuckled and then coughed. Red blood trickled down his chin, but he was in too much pain to wipe it away. With a gurgling behind his voice he said, "I know, but I had no choice. He would have killed me."

Then, as if the irony of his situation came to him, the man grinned wryly. "Well, I guess the outcome is the same."

A strange thought flittered through Elrohir's mind, and he asked, "Do you know where the ranger is? Is he behind the rock wall?"

Podlim nodded and another cough shook his body. His teeth were red with blood when he spoke, "Aye, Dagnir trapped him in there some days ago. He was nearly crushed by the rockslide, but it only killed his horse."

Sighing inwardly, Elrohir scooted a bit nearer to the dying man. He knew that the death of the horse must have hurt his little brother deeply, as Estel had loved the horse dearly. Thenidair had indeed been a loyal shadow to its rider.

Elrohir refocused his attention on the man, and asked, "How many men does Dagnir have?"

"We are four, him included."

So, the younger twin thought, there were truly not more than four. Loudly, he asked, "Do you know if the ranger is hurt? Is your companion guarding him?"

Podlim coughed and through more blood than breath he said, "He's poisoned. Don't know with what. Hador is guarding him. He sits in the rocks. He'll kill him if he sees you. But please, don't kill him, he is only…"

But Podlim could not say more; coughs stole his breath, and more and more blood ran from his mouth. The punctured lung was slowly filling with blood and in a matter of moments he would drown in his own blood.

Elrohir did not know why this man was telling him all this, but he guessed that he wanted to make things right before he reached Mandos's Halls. Nevertheless, the information he had received could help them rescue Estel, and he was thankful for it.

Just as Elrohir prepared to ease the man's passing, Podlim drew a last shuddering breath, and then lay still, eyes open but unseeing. He was dead. Elrohir held no sympathy for the man who had helped poison them and trap his brother, but he held a certain respect for every living being, and therefore he gently closed the dead man's eyes and sent a quick prayer to Ilúvatar.

Then, he wiped his hands clean of the human's blood on the grass, got up, and made his way over to his friend and brother. He had only made two steps when suddenly a loud yell shattered the stillness. It came from the rock wall and sounded not only angered, but furious. And it was not Estel who was screaming, it was a voice Elrohir had never heard before.

--oOo--

Aragorn stopped mid step when the voice called out to him. Cursing under his breath and trying to calm his racing heartbeat, he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. His ears heard the heavy footsteps of his pursuer behind him and the quick breathing of the man. How had the man been able to reach him that fast? He had not even heard that he was that close.

"Good, ranger. Would not want ye to escape, now would we?" The voice was louder and closer.

Aragorn felt a shiver race down his spine. How could he have been so careless? But he had not been careless, he knew. It was simply that he was hurt, in pain and exhausted. Even a child would have been able to catch up with him.

Sighing inwardly, he scanned the area in front of him. The small patch of light had become bigger, the light brighter. Already he could feel the fresh night air on his face; the exit was near. All he needed to do was take a few more steps, and then he would be free. But, alas, it seemed the man behind him had the same thought.

"Don't ye dare make another step. I'll kill ye on the spot, make no mistake."

Once more, Aragorn measured the distance to the exit. It was only a short way, a few steps. But, could he make it? He was tired, his ribs hurt incredibly, his leg burned with a vengeance, and the nasty orc inside his skull had gotten reinforcements a few minutes ago.

Better to die trying, than to die being a coward. The end result will be the same.

For Aragorn had no doubt about the fact that the man would kill him, or at least make sure that he tried not another flight. And in his condition, any more injuries without the possibility and supplies to tend them, could very well mean his death.

Shifting his weight to relieve his leg from his weight, Aragorn heard debris and small pebbles crunch. Almost immediately, the harsh sounding voice called, "Don't ye dare move, ranger! I'll see you!"

Aragorn felt as if a light had been lit inside his head. The man was bluffing! He could not possibly see him in the darkness! It was so dark that Aragorn could not see his own hand before his eyes, so how, by the Valar, was the man behind him able to actually see him? No, he could not, he was bluffing.

Hope sprang to life in his heart, and Aragorn let his arms fall to his sides. If the man could not see him, he could not shoot him, or at least not with much accuracy. Again his eyes measured the distance between himself and the exit.

Heavy footsteps crunched the pebbles behind him, and then another low curse reached his ears. But Aragorn had already made his decision. He would try to escape! His pursuer could not see him, and if he tried to shoot him, he would have to fire into the darkness. Granted, the tunnel was narrow and an arrow could easily hit him, but it was worth a try.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself against the pain in his body, stemmed his feet into the ground, and then sped away. Small stones and debris crunched under his weight, his leg send a sharp and almost unbearable pain through his body, and he made a noise as if a mumakil was stomping over the ground, but he did not care.

An angry growl came from behind, "Stop that! Damn scum, stop!"

But he did not stop. The light in front of him became brighter and the air fresher. He could actually see the edges of the rock wall! Only a few more steps and he would be free of the stone prison, and the thought gave him enough strength to quicken his steps once more.

Another loud curse resounded from the walls, and then Aragorn heard another threat, "You are dead, ranger!"

Only a few more steps, only a few more steps….

A nightly breeze touched his face, and Aragorn finally exited the tunnel and ran out into the night. But in exactly that moment, he heard the twang of a bow and the hateful shout of his pursuer, "Die, filthy scum!"

And Aragorn knew with sudden clarity that, due to his exhaustion and injuries, he would never make it out of the arrow's line in time to avoid being shot.

Tbc…


	20. 19 Rescue

**Beta:** Chris. Wonderful work. I do not know what I would do without your help!

_Elvish translation (S):_

"Estel? Pedo gwa anim, saes! Estel?": Estel? Speak to me, please. Estel?

Gwanur nin: my brother

Pedo gwa ammen: speak to us

Saes daro, Legolas. Al garolye: Please stop, Legolas. Don't do it

* * *

_"Hope is the expectation that something outside of ourselves, something or someone external, is going to come to our rescue and we will live happily ever after."_

_(Dr. Robert Anthony)_

* * *

Chapter 19 "Rescue"

The twang of the bowstring echoed from the walls of the small crevice, and Aragorn thought he could feel it flying towards him. The clearing in front of him was dark and only one fire illuminated the scene besides the moon, but he did not look around. All his thoughts were focused on the arrow that flew towards him with deadly accuracy and that would hit him in his back, therewith ending his life. An arrow shot from this short distance would not be stopped by cloth, flesh or bone.

With his last strength, he threw himself to the side, trying to avoid dieing there and then. But, alas, his leg buckled under him, and he knew that he was not fast enough. With biting pain the arrow pierced his right shoulder, sending him to the borders of unconsciousness. The power behind the projectile was enough to send him tumbling forwards, and with a thud he crashed to the wet grass, landing on his injured leg. .

Breathing heavily against the pain that flared inside his body, he fought the darkness in his mind, not willing to yield, yet. Groaning, he struggled to stand, but his injured shoulder would not hold his weight, and his leg was burning and weak. Tasting blood, Aragorn tried to rise, but suddenly a boot connected with his back, pressing him to the ground and driving the air out of his lungs.

Red spots danced before his eyes, and when the harsh and cruel voice of his pursuer reached his ears, he knew that he had lost.

"You're going nowhere, scum."

Hador, bow still in hand, had rushed out of the crevice to find Aragorn sprawled on the ground, obviously in pain and too weak to run. Seeing his own arrow embedded in the man's shoulder, a satisfied grin appeared on his face. He had waited for this to happen, and now that he was finally able to get his revenge on Dagnir through this ranger, his heart beat in joy.

Without batting an eye at the clearing and checking if his comrades were still awake, he shifted his weight and pressed his boot down further into the ranger's back. A suppressed moan left the ranger's lips as his broken ribs were further damaged, and Hador's grin broadened.

"I told you not to run. It is all your fault, scum."

But Aragorn was not yet willing to yield to this man, and with a last effort he tried to roll over and throw the man off of him. But Hador would have nothing of it; pressing his foot down between Aragorn's shoulder blades close to the arrow, he kicked down cruelly, driving the arrow in deeper and snapping the shaft at the base.

Hador was rewarded with a piercing and agonizing scream from the ranger, and to his twisted mind it was the most wonderful thing that he had heard in a long time. But, the scream was loud enough to wake a troll; if Hador wanted his revenge, he would have to end it here and kill the ranger before Dagnir came over and ended his fun.

In one fluid motion he notched another arrow to the string of his bow. It would not do to kill the ranger with his knife, for then he could not pretend to have killed him during the flight. Hador pulled back the string.

"Time to say goodbye, scum."

But then, suddenly, an immense weight slammed into his chest, then another and then a third in rapid succession. Hador lost his balance, his arrow flew high into the air and he let go of the bow reflexively. He stumbled away from Aragorn and then fell to the ground.

With wide eyes he looked at his chest, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Disbelief etched into his features even as he breathed his last: Three arrows protruded from his chest, deeply buried and of elven make.

--oOo--

Aragorn couldn't breathe; fire burned brightly in his chest and his shoulder seemed to be the target of one of Gandalf's fireworks. His blood roared in his ears and sweat beaded on his forehead. With an alarming speed the red and black dots that covered his vision increased and with every shallow breath he stole, Aragorn felt himself slip further into unconsciousness.

Swallowing and tasting his own blood, he closed his eyes tightly. Somewhere in his pain clouded mind he knew that his pursuer would kill him, and if this was his last moment on Arda, then he did not want his murderer's face to be the last thing he ever saw.

The weight of the man pressed on his back, intensifying his pain to the point of sheer agony. Sending a prayer to the Valar, Aragorn wished for at least a clean ending. But then, suddenly, the weight vanished from his back.

Confused but still unable to draw a sufficiently deep breath, Aragorn lay motionless on the wet grass. He did not know what had happened, and the only possible explanation his pain induced mind presented him with, was that his pursuer had retreated to kill him more viciously than simply by shooting him.

Aragorn grimaced as his ribs screamed at him to roll over, to relieve them of the pressure he forced them through, but he could not. His whole body was one huge wound, and his strength had left his body like a leaf left its tree in winter; moving was out of the question. A shudder raced down his spine and when his muscles cramped in reaction, he almost yelled at the other man to hurry up. Almost.

--oOo--

Legolas could not believe his eyes. What he saw before him could not be true. But it was, and before he had ended his trail of thought, his hand had notched an arrow and fired the projectile with deadly precision. He was dimly aware that Elladan and Elrohir fired their weapons as well, Elladan having thrown his sword to the ground without hesitation. Legolas watched in deep satisfaction how his arrow hit the target, throwing the human backwards and away from…Estel.

Elladan was already running towards his foster brother, and Elrohir was on his way to follow him. The feeling of relief mixed with anxiety that hit Legolas's stomach upon seeing his friend crumple to the ground and then lie there motionless, paralysed the fair elf for a moment longer.

Yes, his eyes told him that his friend was alive, that they had indeed found him. It also provided him with the information that the fourth and last human was dead, pierced by three elvish arrows. But what his mind could not quite process was the _sight_ before him.

Even a blind and half dead dwarf could tell that Estel was hurt. No, Legolas thought, not hurt, but in sheer agony. In the gloomy moonlight, Legolas was not able to see his friend's face clearly, but what he could see was enough to make him boil with rage. A shudder crawled over his slender frame as he once more thought to hear the bone shattering scream his friend had uttered only some moments prior; the scream that had alerted them to his presence.

Legolas could see how Elladan reached Estel's side and fell to his knees, bow abandoned and head bowed. Elrohir crouched down as well, and when Elladan cradled his foster brother into his arms and smoothed the hair from his forehead, something snapped inside of Legolas.

It was as if the scene he witnessed was more than his heart could bear at that moment. Even from the distance his keen elven hearing detected the soft elvish murmur the twins used to calm their brother and from what he heard, the twins were deeply worried.

Narrowing his eyes and gripping his bow tighter, Legolas slowly averted his gaze from his friends and let it travel to the man that still lay at his feet. Dagnir's face had paled considerably, but he had not moved at all.

As if sensing Legolas's gaze, the man turned to look at him and Legolas snarled dangerously. This man had hurt his friend; this man had tried to kill Estel. This man did not deserve to live. To kill this man would mean an end to all their heartache and pain, and it would save Estel from further harm.

Another snarl left Legolas's lips and his hand reached for an arrow, ignoring the soft voice inside his head that told him not to kill Dagnir, as they still needed to know if there existed an antidote to the poison.

--oOo--

Elrohir fell to his knees beside his brothers and watched how Elladan gently rolled Estel onto his side and then cradled him closely. It almost seemed as if the older twin needed to make sure that they had indeed found Estel and that he was alive.

But, Elrohir mused detachedly, everyone could tell that their brother was far from being well. Estel's breathing was far too shallow and fast; his skin was sweaty, tunic and clothing filthy and in some places covered in darker stains. In _many_ places, Elrohir thought darkly.

He could hear Elladan soothe the man in elvish, but his words seemed unable to pierce Estel's pain muddled mind.

"Estel? Pedo gwa anim, saes! Estel?"

But the man did not answer, and Elrohir felt his heart jump into his throat. What had these men done to his little brother to cause him so much pain? What had they done to bring him into a state of near collapse?

He bent over Estel who still panted and trembled slightly. Blood seemed to cover his lips, and with every shallow breath he took, his face contorted into a mask of agony. Elladan looked worriedly at his twin. It was obvious he did not know where to start tending to Aragorn, and the fact that Estel was not noticing their presence scared him.

Instinctively, he cradled Estel even closer, unheeding of the red stain that he smeared on his own tunic and hands. Estel's blood that was flowing freely from the shoulder wound. Elladan had made sure that he did not touch the arrow or the wound; he did not want to cause his brother more unnecessary pain.

Elrohir returned his brother's gaze. He did not know what to do either, and the sight of his brother had shaken him. Of course he had anticipated that Estel would be hurt once they found him, but knowing that it was so and seeing it, were two very different things.

Almost tentatively, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers over Estel's cheek. "Estel? Can you hear me gwanur nin? Please, pedo gwa ammen." Once more he let his slender fingers move over Estel's cheek, and for a moment it seemed as if the man would calm down a bit.

Taking it as a good sign, Elrohir repeated what he was doing, while Elladan tried to soothe his brother. Slowly, Estel's breathing evened out somewhat, and some of the lines in his face that were caused by pain left.

Suddenly, the eyelids fluttered weakly, and then two grey orbs opened and gazed blearily at the twins.

--oOo--

Aragorn did not know what had happened, and he cared not much to find out at the moment. The dots in his line of vision had increased in numbers, and he felt that unconsciousness was near. All he had to do now was stretch out his arms and embrace it willingly. It would be so easy and end his pain and suffering.

But to his annoyance, a voice inside of him was telling him not to let go, yet, but to fight. He would have loved nothing more at that moment than to strangle that voice to shut it up and let him sink into the welcoming blackness, but the voice was very persistent. And, it sounded strangely like his father.

Then, suddenly, as if out of nowhere, he felt strong arms encircle him and lift him partly from the wet grass. Another voice mingled with the voice inside his head, and dimly he noticed that he knew that new voice. That he had heard it before and trusted it. Implicitly and without question.

If he could only hear what the new voice was telling him…

With a great effort, Aragorn concentrated on the new voice, but his chest was on fire and his blood rushed in his ears. He knew that something must have happened to the man who had pursued him, for he was still alive. But what had saved him, even if only temporary, he could not fathom.

Struggling for lucidity and trying to ignore the voice inside of him that seemed to say 'I told you so, now listen to me', Aragorn felt the blackness recede slowly. Then a new sensation penetrated his pain muddled mind. Someone was touching his face, stroking his cheek softly.

This was familiar, very familiar actually. Aragorn recognized the voice; he knew who was with him and trying to coax him back to awareness. He knew who was kneeling at his side and whose voice sounded so afraid and worried. And he knew that he did not want to cause his brothers more pain.

Fighting against the pain in his body and the black chasm that tried to pull him down, he slowly calmed his ragged breathing. Then, gathering all his strength and using it for this single purpose, he weakly opened his eyes.

When his blurred vision cleared, Aragorn smiled weakly at his brothers. Elladan and Elrohir looked definitely terrified; both were pale and dark circles showed around their eyes. Their normally neat braids hung loose and their hair was dishevelled. Had Aragorn not been in so much pain, he would have laughed at their unelvish appearance.

Starring up into their faces, he felt a great wave of relief wash over him. His brothers were here; they had come to rescue him as they usually did. Both looked to be unhurt, and Aragorn felt very grateful for that, as he had inwardly feared that his brothers could have suffered greatly under the poison; if they were poisoned as well, that was.

He did not know how his brothers had known that he needed them or why they were not in Imladris, but he knew that he had never before felt so happy about seeing these two elves. Burying his pain as deeply as he could, he grinned broader and croaked through parched lips,

"You are late. What took you so long?"

Shock, disbelief and confusion flittered over his brothers' faces, but only for a short moment. Then, Elladan and Elrohir simultaneously grinned widely and all tension left their bodies in utter relief.

Elrohir was the first to recover. "Late? We are never late as you should know, gwanur nin. But if you have to know, Legolas delayed us because he had to socialize with a certain log."

Elladan chuckled softly, but even as he did so he placed Aragorn back on the wet grass and examined him for injuries. The twins might be like little elflings on the surface, but when it came to their foster brother's well being, they were dead serious.

Aragorn could not help but moan when Elladan placed him back, but he ignored his pain for a moment longer and asked incredulously, "Legolas? He is here?"

Nodding, Elrohir turned halfway and gestured towards Legolas without looking. Then, suddenly, his eyes went wide and his face paled. Without preamble he spun around, eyes fixing on Legolas. What he saw made his blood run cold, and ere Elladan or Aragorn knew what had gotten into him, Elrohir jumped to his feet and sped away into the darkness.

"Legolas, noooo!"

--oOo--

His arrow rested against the smooth wood of his bow, and the yellow feathers of the fletching scratched against his fingers. To Legolas's dismay, his fingers trembled slightly and his heart pounded heavily inside his chest. Narrowing his blue eyes even further and fixing them on his target, Legolas took a deep breath.

Everything inside of him screamed at him to let his arrow fly and kill Dagnir. To end the life of the man who had caused him so much pain, who had caused all his friends so much agony. But somehow, the tiny voice inside of him that pleaded with him not to kill the man, was very insistent.

A soft breeze of cool night air drifted towards him, bringing with it the voices of his friends, but Legolas was so focused on his target that he did not hear Aragorn's voice or words. All he saw and heard was Dagnir. The man was lying in front of him in the grass; the face was pale, eyes wide and the crimson stain on his leg grew ever larger.

But what satisfied Legolas to no end, was the tiny sparkle of fear that he saw in the human's eyes. Dagnir was afraid of him.

_And so he should be, for I will kill him._

And with that, Legolas pulled back the string of his bow even further, his eyes no more than slits.

_It will end here and now._

He breathed in deeply and knew that with his next exhalation the miserable life of this human would come to an end.

But, suddenly, Elrohir's agitated voice reached his ears, and in the last moment he stopped his fingers from releasing the arrow. Snapping his head up, he saw the younger twin race towards him, eyes wide and hands outstretched.

"Legolas, noooo!"

Confused, Legolas gazed over Elrohir's shoulder at the two figures on the ground. Fear crept up his body and he felt his stomach churn violently. Had something happened to Estel? Was he…was he…

"Elrohir, what happened? Is it Estel?"

The younger twin stopped near him and stared at him wide-eyed. Elrohir shook his head and then gestured towards Legolas's bow and arrow, for the prince was still aiming the weapon unwaveringly at Dagnir.

"Saes daro, Legolas. Al garolye."

In that split-second Legolas knew what the twin meant, and he turned his gaze back towards the human at his feet. His voice was more a snarl than anything else when he answered,

"Why?"

Elrohir swallowed and seemed to weigh his words for a moment. Then, having made up his mind, he gestured towards his brothers.

"Because Estel needs you, Legolas. And killing this human will not help him, you know that."

Aye, Legolas knew that. But there was a difference between knowing and doing the right thing. Without loosening the tension in his arms and shoulders, he let his gaze flicker in the direction he knew Estel was. In the darkness, he could make out the man's form, but as he lay on the ground and Elladan sat before him, he could not see his face.

His heart hurt, and the fact that his friend was not moving or coming to greet him spoke volumes of Estel's health. Legolas wanted to rush to Estel's side, talk to him and make sure that he was all right. And if he killed Dagnir and finally got it over with, he would be able to do that.

Cold eyes fixed once more on the face in front of him. But Elrohir placed his hand gently on Legolas's shoulder and said softly in the grey tongue.

"Legolas, this would be murder. Would Estel wish you to become a murderer on his behalf?"

_No, no he would not. His heart is too pure and good._

Slowly, Legolas relaxed the tension on the bowstring and let the weapon sink. He could hear the relieved sigh of Elrohir and saw that Dagnir sighed relieved as well. For a moment, he even thought he saw a small smile flicker over the human's face, but before he could be sure that he had seen it, it was gone.

In one fluid motion, Legolas put his bow on his back and took out one of his white handled knives instead. Bending low, he snarled at Dagnir, cold fire burning in his eyes,

"You will meet your end at my hand and nothing will save you from my wrath, mortal."

_Perhaps I cannot kill him, but that does not mean that I cannot frighten him._

Satisfied at the new flicker of uncertainty in Dagnir's eyes, he let the handle of his knife come down on the man's temple, knocking him out.

Elrohir gazed at him bewildered, for never before had he seen Legolas in such an angered state. Legolas simply sheathed his knife and turned towards Elladan and Estel, leaving Elrohir to watch over the unconscious human.

--oOo--

Morgwath crouched down behind some bushes, cringing in pain as the arrow in his shoulder moved slightly. From his position he could see the elves tend to the human and secure the obviously unconscious Dagnir to a tree. To see the white-haired Gondorian helpless stirred something inside of him, but it was neither anger not pity. To his own surprise, it was satisfaction.

True, he had come to the North under Dagnir's command, but that did not necessarily mean that he had no plans of his own. A smile touched his pale lips as he took in the bound form of the former Gondorian captain.

Almost silent and on swift feet that only little stirred the dead leaves and trampled the soft earth, Morgwath retreated into the dark forest. As soon as the elves, the ranger and Dagnir left this clearing, he would be back.

To follow them to wherever they were going would not be that difficult for such an excellent tracker as he was. And he could melt into the shadows and become one with his surroundings if he wished to, almost like the rangers did.

His tall and black figure vanished into the dark night as the first words of an ancient tale flew heavenwards into the night. But Morgwath did not listen, as his mind was treading other paths. Darker paths of the past.

For, it had been no incident that he had met Dagnir in Tharbad and rescued his life. And neither had it been by a whim that he had followed the Gondorian.

--oOo--

Valar, his whole body hurt tremendously, and not even the pain reducing tea that Elrohir had brewed helped him much. Aragorn sighed softly and tried to ignore the pain in his chest and ribs, but he could not. Giving up his futile attempts to rest, he turned his head and looked at his brothers and Legolas, who sat near him around the fire, talking softly among themselves.

Every time he saw them, his heart skipped a beat in gratefulness and new hope. After tying Dagnir up against a tree and making sure that he was still unconscious and would stay so for a while, they had filled him in about their reasons to follow him and treated his numerous wounds as best they could.

Aragorn thought that he would never forget Elladan's face when he had seen his injured hand; his brother had looked as if he could rip Dagnir into pieces with his bare hands. His furious look had only been topped by Legolas's inventive dwarvish curse, one that would even make Durin blush.

The arrow had imbedded itself deep into his shoulder, and with the shaft broken and the tip scraping over his shoulder bone, the twins had not dared to remove it. They had cleaned the wound as best they could, stopped the blood flow and numbed the wound with herbs. After binding it securely, they had left it thus, deciding that they would take a better look at it in the morning and the bright light of Arnor, instead of the weak and flickering fire light.

Luckily, both Elladan and Elrohir confirmed his assumption that his broken ribs would not endanger his lung or other organs, but that did not help the pain that erupted in his chest every time he moved. His ribs were not on the forefront of his mind when it came to his injuries though; his knee hurt terribly.

Elladan had examined it and his face had been grave. Elrohir had been even more serious; as the more sensitive of the twins, he had never been very good at hiding his emotions. Worry and sympathy had crossed his features and when Elrohir had placed a hand on Aragorn's brow and tried to hide his fear behind a small smile, Aragorn had known that it was worse than he had thought.

Neither of his brothers had told him the extend of the injury, and he had not asked. He knew that, at least as long as the night lasted, they could do nothing. And deep inside, he was relieved that he would not have to endure another period of agony tonight.

Now, relatively clean and bandaged, he waited for sleep to claim him, but it would not come. Perhaps, he mused wryly, it had to do with the fact that his brothers were poisoned as well. Only haltingly his brothers had told him about their sickness, but in the end they had told him.

The fact that they were ill as well and that his father did not know the poison worried him, and he felt guilty, too. It had not been Dagnir's intention to harm the twins, all he had wanted was to see him suffer and kill him in the end. That his brothers could die as well scared him deeply.

Sighing softly and closing his eyes, Aragorn tried once more to find sleep, not an easy task for him. At least his great thirst had been quenched, as the twins had given him as much water as he had needed. By rights, he should be tired, but either the adrenalin was keeping him awake or his body was simply too agitated to sleep.

Whatever it was, it unnerved him. Tomorrow they would make for Imladris, and the journey would be exhausting and painful. He needed his sleep and all the energy he could get. In a few hours the sun would rise, and it was time for sleep to claim him.

Slowly, he relaxed. The cool nightly breeze brushed over his face, unsullied and fresh. He lay on relatively soft blankets and Legolas's cloak was draped over him. It smelled of grass and flowers as well as leather; it was comforting and soothing.

A branch cracked in the fire and the lonely hoot of an owl pierced the stillness of the night. Silver stars glimmered in the sky, and in his mind's eye Aragorn could almost see the great ship of Eärendil sail over the heavens.

The pain inside his body slowly lessened, but still he could not force his mind to rest. Frustrated, Aragorn, eyes still closed, asked his brothers softly,

"Dan, Ro?"

"Aye, Estel? Are you in pain, shall I make some more tea?" Elrohir, who sat close to him, asked worriedly.

"No, Ro, thank you. I simply cannot sleep. Could you,…would you perhaps…"

He did not know how to ask this. He was grown after all, and it had been years since he had last asked his brothers to tell him a goodnight story. The gentle voice of Elladan, who sat on his other side, asked him, "What is it, Estel? Just tell us."

Sighing and deciding that there was no other way to ask this and that he simply 'needed' something to soothe his mind, Aragorn asked meekly, "Would you tell me a story, please?"

Had he opened his eyes, he would have seen the genuine smiles that graced the elves' lips. It was Elrohir who asked, "Which story would you like to hear?"

Aragorn needed not to think about the question; he knew exactly which story he wanted to hear.

"I do not know the title of the tale, but you told it to me when I was younger, ill and ada forced me to stay in bed. It ended something like this, '_And although they never found their love in life, they were not parted in death. It was their fate to shine from the heavens for all eternity. Together as one, but never able to touch.'"_

Elladan and Elrohir changed a brief look. They knew which story their brother was referring to, but they had not thought that he would remember that tale, as he had been very young then.

Legolas placed another log on the fire and watched the siblings silently. He could tell that Aragorn was in pain, and in his opinion, a story was a good way to distract them all from their current situation and the task that lay ahead.

When Elrohir gently smoothed some stray hair from Aragorn's forehead, and Elladan began to tell the tale, he leaned back and listened to the words of his friend, soon lost in the sad but hopeful story they wove into the night.

"Once upon a time, when the stars were still young and the fate of Arda unsteady, there were two lovers. Two lovers, born into a dark and cold world. A world of hatred and fear. Two fates that would become one, a love, that would last into eternity… until the world would be undone…."

Tbc…

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**So, another chapter. I said thurdsday and I actually managed it!(Despite snow and stormy weather) What do you think? Many thank you 's for the wonderful reviews. They are encouraging and show me that people like the story and care enough to tell me what they like and not. Please, keep it up! Until next time. :o)**


	21. 20 Wounds

_Elvish translations (S):_

Iston: I know

**Beta:** Chris

**A/N 1:** I am truly sorry for the delay. I know I said in my review replies that I now stick to my "One chapter per week" schedule, but real life was so busy I could not manage that. Please understand that I need time to write the chapters, and as English is not my native tongue, it takes me a bit longer than the average writer. :o) And then Chris needs time to beta, and then I need time to check it again and correct it. And THEN I post. I only do all the work to present to you a chapter with as little mistakes as possible. :-)

**A/N 2**: On my profile page there is an Alert section now. I will post there when I have problems posting the next chapter or how long it will take to post, what the progress is and so on. So, now you are informed about the story all the time. ;-) The current alert has gone unnoticed by most, and you can ignore it for the moment.

**A/N 3:** Wow, much to say today. Alas, I am not able to reply to reviews this time, but I will answer your questions as soon as I can. I enjoy reading your reviews very much, and I copy them all to save them. Thanks to you all, you are wonderful. :-)

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_"Even in pain, our heart recognizes those that only want to help us and we do not want them to be guilty because of their compassion. But they are, because to cause us pain, causes them pain as well."

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Chapter 20 Wounds

The next morning dawned cold and bleak. The sun was veiled by thin white clouds, and the night's dew had frozen to cover the grass with tiny ice crystals. A soft breeze blew and Aragorn shivered under the cloak and blankets. He had fallen asleep shortly after his brother began to tell the old tale, but his night had not been undisturbed.

More than once he had woken due to some pain or another, and in the end Elrohir had made him drink another cup of pain reducing tea, claiming that Aragorn needed the sleep to reclaim some of his strength. Strength he would need for the next day and the upcoming journey towards Imladris.

Another shiver raced up and down his body, and when a high twittering reached his ears, Aragorn reluctantly opened his eyes. He felt warm and quite comfortable under the covers, and he knew that the shivering resulted from lack of sleep and injuries, and not the cold. He inwardly cursed the annoying bird; for a moment he pictured a great cat in his mind, which chased the bird away, but the annoying "chilp-chilp" would not end. Sighing, he blinked a few times, and when the world shifted back into focus, he saw that his brothers and Legolas were already up; if they had rested during the night at all, that was.

Legolas, seeing Aragorn awake, smiled and made his way over to him. Kneeling down, he gently touched Aragorn's forehead, checking for fever. He frowned slightly when he noticed the warmth that radiated off the man's skin, but the fever was not yet high; perhaps they could break it before it manifested itself completely.

Aragorn, for once, did not mind the fussing of his friend. He knew that as soon as the pain reducing tea lost its effect, he would be in considerable pain; something he was not looking forward to. If he had his way, he would drink the teas until they reached his home, but he knew that that was not possible. The herbs that were needed to make the tea only grew in summer, and although the twins had brought more than usual with them, they would not last the journey to Imladris. They would have to be careful when to use them and when not.

A soft sigh escaped Aragorn's lips, and he unconsciously snuggled deeper into the blankets. He was tired, but now that he was awake, the desire to leave this place and go home grew stronger. And, the fact that they were poisoned, with no cure, made him wish to be home already, in his father's care.

Shivering again, he suddenly felt Legolas's hand on his shoulder. Focusing on his friend, he saw the concern and worry that lined the elf's face.

"Estel, how do you feel? Are you cold?"

"No, I am not cold. And I feel…" he had wanted to say "fine", but the moment he saw Legolas's raised eyebrow, he concluded his sentence with, "…tired."

"That is understandable, Estel. You were awake most of the night, and your injuries kept you awake. But as soon as we are on our way, you can rest."

In that moment, Elladan joined their conversation. "Aye, but first, you should eat something, Estel. And have some more tea to warm you, although you are not cold." A twinkle had appeared in Elladan's eyes, and they all knew that the twin tried to lighten the mood. For, although no one had yet said it aloud, they all knew what awaited them this morning.

Aragorn's more serious wounds had to be checked, as that had not seemed wise last night with only the light of the moon and the flickering firelight.

Stirring the sweet smelling tea that already bubbled over the fire, Elrohir smiled at his younger brother, "Estel, do not worry. I cooked, not Legolas. There will be no maggots in your breakfast."

A small snigger escaped Aragorn's lips, and Elrohir, satisfied that he had made his brother smile, grinned smugly.

Gently, Legolas and Elladan helped Aragorn to sit up and move closer to the fire, while Elrohir poured some of the tea into a cup and then added some water from his flask to cool it to a drinkable temperature.

Wrapped in the blankets and still wearing Legolas'scloak, Aragorn drank the tea without complaining, only now feeling how thirsty he still was. Now that he had moved, the aches in his body had woken, too, and he felt that the tea he had had last night slowly lost its effect. But still, he could sit relatively painless, and with some satisfaction and relief he noted that his broken ribs were bandaged sufficiently to only give him slight discomfort.

Breakfast consisted of bread, cheese, dried meat, apples and some spicy herbs. It seemed the cook in Imladris had meant well with the twins when they had left and had provided them with all they needed. Aragorn did not mind, and although he was not truly hungry, he ate a little bit of everything. He knew that he had not eaten much during the last few days, but since the first attack of the poison his hunger had left him. Nevertheless, he ate to replenish some of his lost strength and to make his brothers and friend feel more at ease.

Suddenly, just as he put his empty plate down and reached for his cup of warm tea, a haughty voice resounded across the clearing.

"Hey, elves! What about me? Shall I starve to death here?"

Dagnir…

Fury blazed in Elladan's eyes, and Legolas gripped his apple so tightly that his fingers actually created little holes in the fresh flesh of the fruit. Elrohir turned around and regarded Dagnir with such a disgusted look that any other would have wished to be swallowed by the earth. But not Dagnir.

"Hey, scum! Still alive? Such a shame these elves showed up, really. I would have enjoyed some more private time together. You, I, my knife…"

Faster than lightning, Elladan and Elrohir sprang to their feet, ready to strangle Dagnir there and then, no matter the consequences. But Legolas was even faster. With quick reflexes born out of years of warrior training, he drew his arm back and threw his apple at the man. The fruit picked up such an enormous speed, that it knocked Dagnir out cold, the moment it hit the man's forehead.

He slumped in his bonds and did not move anymore, the mashed apple landing right next to him in the frosty grass.

Aragorn, who had paled considerably the moment the man had spoken, stared at his friend in open-mouthed shock. He blinked, blinked again, and then snapped his mouth shut. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it. As it seemed, his brothers thought the same, for they looked at Legolas as if he had sprouted a second head.

Clearing his throat, Aragorn could not help but comment, "Legolas, what…was that?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Legolas answered, "I missed."

"Pardon?" Aragorn lifted an eyebrow and looked at the now slightly grumpy looking archer.

Sighing, Legolas glanced back at Dagnir and then at Aragorn, "Aye, I missed. I intended to hit him directly in the face. To shut him up. But he moved."

For a moment it was completely silent, and then the twins sat down again. Taking a deep breath, Elladan took up his plate, "There, there Legolas, and here I thought the Wood-elves had an unequalled accuracy."

"True, Legolas. You need more training. Oh, and next time, please use something else as projectile. You are too old to play with your food," Elrohir added dead serious.

Another moment of silence met these statements, but then Aragorn could not suppress his snicker any longer, and a moment later they were all sniggering and grinning widely. Unconsciously, Legolas's action had reduced the threatening person of Dagnir into a comical joke. Well, at least for a few minutes, that was.

Only too soon, they finished their breakfast, and Aragorn knew that the time had come to tend to his wounds. He dreaded the moment and wished that they could just leave his injuries as they were. To tend them would not only hurt, but hurt terribly, despite the pain reducing tea that he just drank.

Glancing around nervously and shifting his weight a little bit, he watched with trepidation as Elladan spread a blanket over the still frosty grass, and Elrohir went to retrieve the healing supplies. He sighed audibly, although he did not notice that. He was no coward, had never been one, but it was one thing to fight bravely in battle, and an entirely other thing to be helplessly caught in severe pain and nervousness.

Aragorn did not know what was worse, the fact that he knew that it would be very painful, that he could not change that, that his brothers and friend had to witness his pain, or that he forced them to "cause" this pain. For he had no doubt that they all would share in his suffering and feel indescribably guilty for causing him more pain.

At least, he thought wryly as Elrohir returned with a leather pack and another flask of fresh water, Dagnir is unconscious and cannot witness what will happen here this morning.

After cleaning away the breakfast plates and most of the other packs to free some space around the fire for all of them, Legolas gently helped Aragorn, hampered by his injured hand, to open the laces of the tunic he wore and to lift it over his head, exposing his upper body. Then, he helped Aragorn to lie face downwards on the blanket that Elladan had prepared, and kneeled down near his head. From this position, Legolas would not be in the twins' way, and at the same time he could support his friend and restrain him if necessary.

A shiver raced down Aragorn's back, this time from the cold, and Legolas spread a cloak over his friend. Turning, his eyes searched for the twins. What were they waiting for? The sun had already risen nearly an hour ago, and they all knew that they needed to make haste; Imladris was far away, and every day that they lingered or tarried, could cost them dearly.

Elladan and Elrohir were standing on the other side of the fire, speaking in hushed tones and gesturing with their hands. It was clear to Legolas that they were arguing, which surprised him greatly. Normally, the twins were like egg and hen, or fish and water. They complemented each other and very seldom disagreed; this went even so far that some elves claimed that the twins could read each other's thoughts.

And that they were now arguing worried Legolas. He could not make out the words, but when Elrohir gestured towards Aragorn and him, he knew that they were talking about the treatment of the wounds.

Legolas felt another shiver race through Aragorn's body, and then the low voice of his friend reached his ears. Aragorn was facing away from the fire, and therefore he could not see his arguing brothers, but as it seemed, he knew them well enough to at least guess what was going on,

"Are they not yet finished arguing?"

Surprised, Legolas shook his head, only to then realize that Aragorn could not see the gesture, "No, they are still talking. How did you know, can you hear them?"

It was not likely that the man could hear the quiet talk of his brothers, when even Legolas could just make out the voices. But he had to ask nevertheless, his curiosity piqued.

"No, I cannot hear them. But they do this every time I am injured. Have you never noticed, mellon nin?"

"No, I have not." To his own surprise, Legolas had to admit that now, after Aragorn had mentioned it, some happenings out of the past appeared before his eyes. After some moments, he nodded his agreement.

"You are right, Estel. They do this nearly every time you are injured. Why have I not noticed before?"

A soft sigh came from Aragorn, and he shifted under the cloak, bringing his arm to his face and bedding his head on it.

"Perhaps because you were injured yourself at the times, or you were too worried. Or both."

"What are they talking about, do you know?" Legolas tugged a strand of blond hair behind his ear, but the wind blew it into his face only a moment later.

"They are debating who is going to tend to the injuries. Elladan claims that he is the older of the two, and that it is his duty to do so. Elrohir counters with the fact that he always says that, but that that does not make the fact more impressing. He wants to tend to the injuries."

Frowning, Legolas stared at the still arguing twins. "I do not understand, Estel. Why do they argue about that? Why do they not both tend to you?"

It was silent for a moment, and then Aragorn said softly, "Legolas my friend, how would you feel when you had to take that arrow out of my shoulder, tearing flesh and muscle, perhaps even damaging the bone? How would you feel if you had to cause me immense pain?"

I would feel sick, Legolas thought. Very, very sick. And suddenly he understood. The twins were arguing, because either of them wanted to spare the other the emotional pain that would inevitably be caused by tending to their foster brother. Not for the first time in his life, Legolas felt deeply affected by the strong bond that the Elrondions shared with each other.

But, he had no time to dwell on this any longer, for right then the soft voices ceased, and in the next moment Elladan and Elrohir knelt down on either side of their human brother. Both had pulled up the sleeves of their tunics, and braided their hair away from their faces. They looked…different.

Legolas could not help the thought that this time the twins looked very different from all the other times that he had seen them tend the wounded. Perhaps it was because Aragorn's life was not in danger, and they were in no haste to stop some bleeding or other. Or it was because the twins themselves looked tired and exhausted. He did not know what it was, but whatever had caused the feeling, Legolas knew that the twins would do their best to help their brother.

And, it seemed as if Elladan had won the argument.

He kneeled in the grass next to Aragorn's wounded shoulder, the light grey leggings he wore already turning a darker shade at his knees, where the frost on the grass melted and wetted the cloth.

Elrohir kneeled down on Aragorn's other side, cloths, herbs and a small knife in his hands. He smiled at Aragorn, and when the man nodded briefly and closed his eyes tightly, Elrohir gave his twin a silent signal to start.

And so it began.

Legolas took Aragorn's healthy hand in his own and squeezed it tightly while he placed the other on Aragorn's uninjured shoulder to lend him his support and restrain him from moving too much.

He watched how Elladan removed the cloak from his brother's shoulders and then exposed the bandaged wound. Once the red stained bandages had been removed, he gently probed the wound with his long fingers.

Legolas felt the muscles in Aragorn's back tense, and the man's hand squeezed his own tightly, but otherwise he gave no outward sign of pain. The wound looked angry, but it was not yet inflamed, which in itself was a good sign.

But the wound had bled during the night, and the dried blood had crusted at the edges of the wound and made the shaft of the arrow stick even more to the skin. Now, with the weak light of the hidden sun and the firelight as well, Legolas could see that the shaft had not cleanly snapped, but that tiny wooden splinters had drilled themselves into the skin. It would be difficult to remove the arrow and the splinters, and more likely than not, some splinters would have to be removed out of the wound once the arrow was gone as well.

After long moments of probing the injury, Elladan grabbed the shaft of the arrow, close to the shoulder, and pressed his other hand against Aragorn's back to use the leverage. The movement caused Aragorn to take a deep breath and tense in anticipation of what was to come.

Giving his twin a short look and taking a deep breath himself, Elladan licked his lips, and then, without further warning, pulled at the arrow. At first, it did not move, and Elladan used more strength. Red blood welled up and ran down Aragorn's shoulder to stain the blanket, but still the arrow did not move an inch.

Legolas could feel the muscles in Aragorn's body tense even further, and his friend squeezed his hand so tightly that he slowly lost his feeling in his fingers. Sweat appeared on Aragorn's forehead, and his face was so pale that Legolas thought the man would faint. But, he did not, and only his tense body and the tightly pressed pale lips showed the amount of pain he was in.

Giving Aragorn a reassuring squeeze with his free hand, Legolas gazed at Elladan. He had paled as well, but determination glittered in his eyes. He had let go of the arrow shaft, and reached his hand out to his twin. Elrohir placed the clean knife in Elladan's hand, and then gently wiped at some of the red blood that ran freely down Aragorn's back and shoulder.

Without hesitation, Elladan placed the razor sharp knife against the skin, and made four small incisions into the flesh around the arrow, almost like a compass. One to the north, south, west and east. More blood flowed, but the cuts were small in comparison to the arrow wound, and would heal quickly.

Placing the knife on the blanket to not dirty it too much, Elladan once more grabbed the arrow shaft. He took a deep breath and then rotated it in tiny movements around, before he, with a resolute jerk, pulled at the arrow. At first, nothing happened, but then the shaft slowly moved, and the arrow slid out of the shoulder, inch by inch.

Legolas could feel Aragorn stiffen under his fingers and then tremble slightly. His face was grey and seemed to have lost all colour; sweat stood on his brow and dampened his dark hair. It seemed as if Aragorn was holding his breath, and inwardly Legolas wished that his friend would loose his consciousness. It would be better, not only for himself, but for the twins and especially Elladan as well.

After what seemed like a small eternity, the arrowhead appeared in the wound, and after another tug, the arrow came free with a sickening squelching sound. Bright red blood oozed from the wound, but Elrohir was quick to press some cloths over the injury to staunch the bleeding. The linen soon turned red and was soaked through, and Elrohir added another cloth to the layer he was already using.

Disgusted, Elladan quickly examined the arrow for poison or any other signs that greater parts of the shaft were missing, which would indicate that they had stayed in the wound. Satisfied that the shaft looked smooth and undamaged, he threw it into the fire, where it hissed and smoked before the flames greedily consumed it.

While Elrohir tried to stop the bleeding, and Elladan cleaned the knife for further use, Legolas wiped the cold sweat from Aragorn's forehead. The ranger had his eyes still closed, his face was grey, his lips pale. His breathing was quick and raspy, and Legolas had no doubt that the procedure had been immensely painful.

He could not help but admire his friend a little bit for his strength of will. Legolas was not sure if he had been able to keep silent while someone removed an arrow from his shoulder like this, and furthermore in an already weakened and exhausted state of body and mind. But Aragorn had proven his ability to suffer in silence many times before, and Legolas knew that his friend would always try to keep silent in situations like these, to spare his family and friends pain.

Slowly, Aragorn's breathing slowed, but his body was still tense and stiff. Gently, Legolas removed some sweat dampened strands of dark hair out of Aragorn's face, and then leaned down and spoke soothingly to him in elvish. His words seemed to calm Aragorn, and after a few minutes Aragorn took a deep breath, and some of his tense muscles relaxed.

Smiling relieved, Legolas resumed wiping Aragorn's brow, hoping that his steady movement could help his friend to calm down and be at the same time like an anchor to the world. Aragorn's hand that was still holding Legolas's relaxed as well, and Legolas felt his blood rush back into his fingers. Immediately they began to tingle as if thousands of tiny needles pricked them, but Legolas did not remove his hand, but instead gave Aragorn's hand a tiny reassuring squeeze.

Some minutes passed, but the blood flowed still freely from the arrow wound, slowing only marginally. Elrohir met Elladan's eyes over Aragorn's back, and Legolas could see the worry that glimmered in both their eyes. Judging by the pressure that Elrohir was using and the amount of cloths that already padded the injury, the blood flow should have lessened considerably by now, if not stopped at all.

Taking a deep but inaudible breath, Elladan handed his brother another pad of cloths, and then pressed down on the wound as well. Aragorn jerked for a second, but then lay still again, bearing the treatment in silence.

Another few minutes passed, but the new cloth finally showed red spots as well, and Legolas knew that they had to try something else. Aragorn had already lost enough blood to weaken him, the more blood he lost, the unlikelier it was that they would make it to Imladris in time.

For neither of them had forgotten about the poison, and from what they knew, the venom could strike any minute and attack them. Aragorn needed all the strength he could get; he could not loose any more blood.. -->

Elladan exchanged a wordless conversation with his twin. They were both trained in the healing arts, and although they had given their life to war and battle, they had not forgotten the many lessons that they had shared with their father in the Healing Wing of the Last Homely House; and they knew that the only thing that they could do now was to burn out the wound.

But to cauterise the injury would be terribly painful, and the last thing the twins wanted to do was to put their foster brother through more agony. Aragorn had already endured much, and to have to endure such a painful treatment would weaken him even further; the opposite of what they wanted to achieve.

Elrohir shook his head once, and mouthed "one more". Nodding, Elladan reached for another pad of cloth and pressed it on the wound, atop of all the other blood soaked bandages. It would not do to remove the bandages; they served as a good compress and helped stopping the bleeding.

Legolas eyed their effort with growing unease. He had not missed the silent excahnge, and as an archer he knew that the only other way to stop the blood flow was to burn out the wound. Stitching would not help; once the wound was closed, the blood would continue to flow, only slower. It would not solve the problem, and more likely than not lead to infection.

No, to cauterise the wound was the only option that was left, should the wound not stop bleeding on its own.

Minutes passed, and Legolas began to hope that, indeed, the treatment had finally worked. Some more moments passed, but then a red spot appeared on the white cloth, growing and blossoming like a flower in spring.

Legolas's heart sank into his stomach, and his mouth went dry. Unconsciously, he squeezed Aragorn's hand and swallowed thickly. He saw how Elrohir closed his eyes in defeat, and how Elladan lowered his head, his shoulders slumping slightly.

Aragorn trembled slightly, and only then did Legolas realise how cold Aragorn's skin had become. Being exposed to the frosty morning air and the soft breeze, it was no wonder Aragorn was freezing. And the blood loss and the pain did the rest.

Gently, he rubbed his free hand in small circles over Aragorn's back, trying to warm him a little, but he knew that it would not help much. But, what else could he do? He watched in silence how Elladan removed his blood soaked hands from the bandages, cleaned them with water from the spare flask, and then took up the knife he had used earlier.

Placing it into the flickering flames, he prepared the things they would need to cauterise the injury. Elrohir had not removed his hands from the wound, and none of them had yet spoken of what they were about to do.

For a brief moment, Legolas wondered whether it would not be better to give Aragorn a sleeping draught. He had asked the twins this question the night before, when they had discussed their further steps, but both twins had told him that it would be too dangerous to send Aragorn into a herb induced sleep. His weakened body could use the opportunity to sink into a deep unconsciousness, from which he would not be able to awake easily.

Just as Legolas thought about knocking Aragorn out to spare him from what was to come, Aragorn spoke softly. His voice was raspy, but the words were easily understandable for them all.

"It does not stop bleeding, does it? I can feel it."

Exchanging a quick look with each other, it was Elrohir who answered, "No, it does not. But do not worry, Estel."

Elladan could not help but glance at the heating knife at these words, but what else could Elrohir have said? But they were not surprised when Aragorn nodded, and then said tonelessly,

"Then you will have to cauterise the wound. I will loose too much blood otherwise."

"We know, Estel. But…it will hurt, gwanur."

"Iston." Aragorn took a deep breath, "But it has to be done, and I have rather you do it now, then when we are somewhere in the forest, with wolves or orcs around. With Legolas around, one can never know what happens."

"Hey!" Legolas said with mock hurt, but he knew that Aragorn only tried to keep his mind off of what was to come. "It is you who always gets us into trouble, mellon nin. Your charm is not lost on the orcs, you know. Perhaps they like you so much because you smell like them."

Now it was Aragorn's turn to sound offended. "I do not smell like an orc. Elladan does from time to time, but I do not."

And so they bantered for some moments, everyone knowing that it was only a show to keep their frayed nerves under control. But their minds never forgot what was to come, and when Elladan slowly took the now red gleaming knife out of the fire, they all fell silent.

Squeezing Aragorn's hand tightly, Legolas felt the shiver that ran through Aragorn's body. Unconsciously, he scooted even nearer, and placed his free hand on his friend's cold back. He bit his bottom lip, and then took a deep breath. Maybe a piece of wood or a leather belt to help protect his teeth would be nice. -->. Legolas felt nervous and skittish, his stomach felt slightly sick, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and turn deaf. He had witnessed such a treatment before, but never had it been with someone he called his best friend, or sworn brother.

Suddenly, Legolas felt very selfish. After all, it was Aragorn who had to endure such a horrible procedure, not him. When he already felt this bad, how terrible had his human friend then to feel? He gripped Aragorn' hand tighter, feeling the man's cold fingers close tightly around his own.

With big eyes, Legolas watched how Elladan turned the knife in his hand, and then nodded towards his twin. Elrohir removed his hands from the wound, but instead of taking away the many layers of cloths, he reached beside him and lifted one of the still clean pieces of fabric from the pile next to him. He folded it into a pad, and then held it in front of Aragorn's mouth.

The man took two deep breaths and then took the piece of cloths between his teeth without opening his eyes. In that moment, Legolas remenbered that it was not the first time that Aragorn underwent this treatment, and his heart beat heavily in his chest. How horrible it must be to not only know that it would hurt, but to know exactly what was going to happen and how much it would pain him.

He gripped the cold hand more tightly. Aragorn was not alone in this.

Swallowing, Elladan waited until his twin removed the blood soaked layers of cloths, and then, without hesitating, pressed the gleaming dagger on the wound. The reaction was instantaneous. Aragorn arched his back, and a scream of agony, muffled by the cloth, could be heard. Elrohir leaned over him and restrained him, trying to press him back onto the blanket, but when Elladan turned the knife to press it a second time against the wound, Aragorn's body twisted again and Elrohir had to use all his strength to hold his brother down.

Legolas, wincing, spoke soothingly to his friend, but the words were lost on Aragorn. His face had taken on a green touch, and he was now so pale that Legolas could see the tiny blue arteries under the skin. His breath came in quick gasps, and the cloth in his mouth was not helping his breathing.

Elladan did not look better. He was pale and his face showed his determination to bring this treatment to an end, as well as the pain he felt for causing his human brother pain. He looked as if he became sick any moment. But then, he removed the knife from the ugly looking wound, and without further ado he cast it away into the grass, as if it had bitten him.

Quickly but gently, he placed a wet piece of cloth against the wound, and then another one and another. The cloths were drenched in herb induced water, and they would help cool the flesh, keep the wound clean and at the same time reduce swelling and pain.

Slowly, very slowly, Aragorn's breathing calmed, the muscles in his body relaxed somewhat, and he loosened his tight hold on Legolas's bruised fingers. Elrohir removed the cloth from Aragorn's mouth, and Legolas saw with little surprise that it was tinged with a bit of red. Aragorn had more like than not bitten his lips and cheeks as well to keep from bolting and to handle the pain.

Stroking the damp hair of his friend, Legolas did not cease his flow of soothing words, and after what seemed like a small eternity, Aragorn opened his eyes and smiled at him weakly. Legolas helped him drink a little water, and then resumed wiping the sweat from his brow.

A gust of wind brushed by them, and when Aragorn shivered violently, they covered him with Legolas's cloak again. The wound would need some time to calm, before they could bandage the injury. Minutes passed and no one spoke, but finally they gently helped Aragorn into a sitting position and then bandaged his shoulder tightly.

To their relief, Aragorn's face had lost the greenish tint, but he was still pale like a wraith, and although he had pulled his tunic on and had been wrapped in a blanket, he shivered and trembled slightly.

Soon, Aragorn fell into a light exhausted sleep, and the twins and Legolas cleaned away their herbs, bandages and healing utensils. They all were tired as well; to not only see a loved one in pain, but knowing that one was, at least partially, responsible for this pain, was hard to bear.

While Aragorn slept, Elrohir brewed another pain and fever reducing tea and Legolas kept watch over his friend. Elladan had gone to check on the horses, claiming that they needed to make sure that the animals were alright and ready for the treck home.

When Legolas commented on that, worry for the older twin evident in his tone, Elrohir gave him a weak smile. "Leave him be, Legolas. He needs to be alone for some time, but he will be alright. Do not worry, we have been through this many times. Although, never before has it been this hard."

Nodding, Legolas gently stroked some damp locks of dark hair from Aragorn's forehead, and then asked the other question that was burning on his tongue, "Elrohir, what about his knee?"

Elrohir gave his sleeping brother a long and pitiful look before he answered, "Not today, Legolas. I think he cannot endure more today, and…I cannot, and I am sure Dan cannot as well. We let him sleep, and then we make for Imladris."

And nothing more was said of that matter, although they all knew that Aragorn's knee was hurt badly, and that it needed treatment as well. They all knew that, had the cauterisation of the arrow wound been bad, the treatment of the knee would be worse. Much worse.

After perhaps half an hour, Elladan returned from the horses, his face still pale and his eyes guarded, but he said nothing of the matter, and neither Elrohir nor Legolas commented on it. They packed their belongings in silence, making sure not to wake Aragorn, and then Elrohir filled one of the water flasks with the fever fighting and pain reducing tea. The herbs would loose some of their power this way, but to have the tea at hand at all times was an advantage.

Having packed their belongings, they turned to the task of burying the two dead humans. They could not left them lying around in the open; scavengers would feed on them, and the stench would attract not only wolves, but perhaps orcs as well. No, it was better to bury them properly, no matter what they had done.

As the earth was too frozen to attempt digging without shovels, and burning was out of the question as well, as they would then be forced to stay and make sure that the fire did not spread, they decided the bury the two humans under the stones from the rockslide. There were enough rocks scattered over the area, and therefore burying was a rather quick affair.

When the sun stood high in the sky already, they gently woke Aragorn and helped him on one of the horses. -->. It was Elladan's steed, and quickly the elf mounted behind his brother. Neither Legolas nor Elrohir had argued with him, when he had asked them if he could ride with Aragorn first, as they knew the older twin needed the contact to his brother to feel more at ease.

Together with Elrohir's help, Legolas unbound the still unconscious Dagnir, and then they bound his hands behind his back and his feet as well. Without being overly gentle, they placed him over the back of one of the human's horses, like a sack of flour, and then tied him to the stirrups and the saddle to make sure that he could not fall off. With a bit of satisfaction Legolas noticed that Dagnir sported a huge blue bruise on his forehead, right where his apple had hit him.

Elrohir and Legolas mounted their horses as well and turned them around eager to leave. But just when Elladan turned as well, Aragorn stopped him,

"Dan, just a moment."

Frowning, Elladan followed his brother's gaze, and when he saw that Aragorn's gaze lingered on the huge grey rock pile of the landslide, he knew why his brother had stopped them. In silence they waited, and after a few moments, Aragorn nodded, took a deep breath, and turned his gaze away. He had said his last prayers to his faithful horse.

Without another look at the clearing, they left the Misty Mountains behind, and started their long journey towards Imladris.

Tbc…

End of chapter 20.

**So, what do you think? "hint-hint" Btw, do you think we can make the 200 reviews with this chapter:-)**


	22. 21 The darkness of night

**Beta:** Chris. Thank you!

**A/N:** Many thanks to all the reviewers for the support they give me. You are great! The replies are out, if I forgot someone, I am truly sorry.

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"_Lay down, your sweet and weary head,_

_night is falling, you have come to journeys end,_

_sleep now and dream of the ones who came before."_

_(ROTK Soundtrack, Song No. 19 "Into the West"; performed by A. Lennox)_

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_Elvish translations (S):_

Amin hiraetha: I am sorry

Gwanur nin: Brother by blood

_/thoughts/_

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Chapter 21: The darkness of night

The day passed slowly; the three elves and two humans rode most of the time in companionable silence, letting the trees file by, crossing rivers and climbing up small hills, and descending them a short while later. The weather did not change, and the sun was veiled behind a curtain of thin white clouds, a soft breeze rustling the dying leaves and sending them sailing to the ground.

Elrohir rode at the front, always watching for any signs of danger; Elladan followed with Aragorn, who had long ago fallen into an exhausted slumber while leaning against Elladan's chest, and then came Legolas, who had wound the leash that secured Dagnir's horse to his own horse.

Their pace had been slow at first, but after Aragorn had fallen asleep, they had increased their tempo, whishing to leave the clearing behind them as fast and far as possible. Elladan had mentioned that they would need four, if not five, days to reach Imladris, and given Aragorn's condition, perhaps even longer. It was not an encouraging thought.

Furthermore, neither of them had forgotten that one of the humans, the dark haired tall man whom Legolas had wounded, was still on the run. While Elladan had checked the horses in the morning, he had also searched for any signs of the man, but beside some dried blood and some footsteps that lead away from the clearing, he had found nothing.

They had eased their worried minds with the fact that the man was not only wounded, but no longer had a horse, as they had taken all the other horses with them. It would not only be difficult for him to follow them, but as good as impossible.

Elladan sighed and shifted his position slightly. For hours now he held Aragorn upright in front of him, and in all these hours, his injured brother had not moved; and although Elladan was an elf, to hold the man upright and on the horse was getting more and more tiresome. More than once, Aragorn had threatened to slide off the horse's back, and Elladan had been forced to let go of the reins to secure his brother again. Elladan's arms and shoulders ached by now, but he would never say anything; this was his human brother he was holding, and he was injured and in need of help.

Elladan had always been rather protective of his siblings, and when Arwen had left for Lothlorien to live with their grandparents, and Estel had entered his life, his protectiveness had shifted from Arwen to Estel. And no matter what discomfort he felt, he knew that Aragorn would feel much worse once he awoke.

But still, his shoulders ached and his back had started to complain as well, elf or no. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, Elladan slowly rolled his shoulders and tilted his head to the side to ease some of the stiffness. But, alas, it seemed he had not been cautious enough, for suddenly he felt Aragorn shift in his arms, and only a moment later the man's eyelids fluttered and he woke.

"Elladan?"

Aragorn's voice sounded hoarse from sleep, but neither of the elves missed the undertone that spoke of concealed pain.

"Aye, Estel. You have slept long, gwanur. How do you feel?"

It took a moment before the question registered in Aragorn's mind. Shrugging his shoulders and wincing openly when the movement pulled at his arrow wound, he sighed deeply. "I feel sore."

Elrohir glanced at the sky, his gaze penetrating the canopy of the trees with ease as most branches had already lost their leaves. "It is getting dark soon. We will rest then, Estel. Can you hold on a little while longer?"

The younger twin knew that should his brother show any sign that he could not, he would stop here and now without second thought. But deep inside, he wanted to put a bit more distance between them and the fourth man.

Nodding, Aragorn tried a lopsided grin that failed miserably. "Sure, Ro. Do not worry."

Elrohir gave his brother a long look, but then nodded as well and turned back to observe the way before them. Somewhere in his mind, he felt the same unease building that he had felt before; as if something was prowling at the edges of his consciousness, telling him to be careful because a danger lay ahead, but at the same time not telling him what kind of danger it was.

Swallowing, he pushed the feeling back and concentrated on his surroundings. If there were any danger, then he would be prepared, no matter what it was.

Behind him, Legolas watched how Aragorn tried to sit upright on the horse, but Elladan drew him back gently and resettled the tired human back against his chest. Legolas had to smile; Of course he had noticed the older twin's discomfort, and he had just been about to ask whether he should hold Aragorn for a while when the man had woken.

_/I think not even Elrond would be able to take Estel from Elladan right now. Like a mother bear and her cub./_

But his smile widened, and Legolas felt an immense surge of relief flood his system. Relief that they had found Estel, that he was alive, that his brothers were here as well and that they were now on their way to Imladris, where Lord Elrond would take care of them all.

So they rode on for a little while longer like a silent procession. Anor slowly descended in the sky, and when the sun sank down behind the distant horizon, they stopped and set up camp for the night. While Elrohir held the reins of Elladan's horse, the older twin more lifted than helped Aragorn from the steed, and when Aragorn's feet touched the ground, the man hissed in pain and leaned heavily on his brother.

"Estel?" Elladan asked worriedly while keeping his brother upright until he had found his balance.

"Just a moment, Dan. Just a moment." His voice sounded pressed, but true to his word, after only a moment Aragorn set his right foot down on the ground and put his weight on it, standing firmly.

Still cautious, Elladan let go of his brother, but kept a watchful eye on him while he led his horse away to a nearby stream. Dismounting as well, Legolas relieved Dagnir's horse of its "rider", for a second wondering why the man was still unconscious, and then unceremoniously dropping the human on the hard ground.

The steed shook its head as if to thank Legolas and then trotted away to join the other horses by the stream. Legolas gave a short shake of his head, and then looked down at the unconscious human. He could not resist the urge to give him a small kick, and when Dagnir did not respond, he sighed audibly.

_/Great, why me/_

With that, he hoisted the man onto his shoulders and made his way over to one of the trees, as far away from Aragorn as he dared, and then bound him to the tree. He gave a tug at the ropes, and when he was sure that the man was secure and would not be able to get away, he joined Aragorn at the campsite.

His friend had found a spot near a fallen log, and had already settled down on the ground. His cloak was wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and to Legolas he looked not only tired, but ill.

Elrohir was busy kindling a fire while Elladan brushed the horses down one by one, as soon as they had drunken their fill and returned to them.

So, Legolas went over to the packs and began to search for food. They had not truly eaten anything since the morning meal, and although he was not really hungry, he could do with something warm. Sitting down next to Aragorn, he placed Elrohir's pack in his lap and began to sift through it.

After a moment, he looked up and asked, "Ro? Do you have any berries with you? Or mushrooms?"

"No, why?" Elrohir answered, gazing across the fire at Legolas.

"Well, with this cheese and these nuts there." Legolas gestured towards some hazelnuts that lay in the grass not far from the fallen log, "we could make a delicious meal."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow and could not stop his words, although he wished he had, "Like the last time?"

The moment the words were out, he could have slapped himself. Legolas frowned, but then realization hit, and he looked extremely guilty. He let his head hang and resumed sifting through the pack, mumbling, "I was only thinking, I did not mean to…"

"Amin hiraetha, mellon nin." Aragorn sounded tired, and when Legolas lifted his gaze, he saw how the man rubbed his eyes with his uninjured hand. "I am just weary, Legolas. It was not my intention to hurt you." Now it was Aragorn's turn to look guilty.

Leaving the pack as it was, Legolas shook his head and his voice was soft when he answered, "Estel, I am sorry, too. I spoke without thinking. I do not know all that happened after we parted company so many nights ago, but I know it must have been horrible, and I am sorry for reminding you of it."

A wry grin formed on Aragorn's features, and his eyes sparkled a little when he answered, "Oh my friend, it does not need your words to remind me of those days." And with that, he shifted his weight slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

His wince as he moved his right leg was obvious for all with eyes to see, but they did not comment on it. After a moment of fruitless shifting and twisting, Aragorn leaned back against the log and sighed in frustration, once more rubbing his eyes.

"By the mushrooms, I have slept the whole day and I am still tired."

A chuckle escaped Elrohir's lips as he heard his brother's exclamation, "Oh, as if that is new to us, Estel. You are a sloth and will ever be a sloth."

"Oh well, thank you."

"You're welcome, little one."

Ducking the hazelnut that Aragorn threw weakly in his direction, Elrohir put a pot over the flames and began to prepare dinner. Elladan returned from taking care of the horses, and when the last light of Anor disappeared, and the forest sank into darkness, they ate a slightly stale, but nevertheless filling meal. Without maggots, of course.

Sated and warm, Aragorn stretched his legs out in front of him, ignoring the pain in his damaged knee and rested his head on the log. From this position, he was able to watch the stars as well as have an eye on his companions, and for the first time since he had walked into the trap at the foot of the Misty Mountains, he felt contend.

Yes, his injuries pained him a lot, despite the tea he had drunken upon Elrohir's insistence –and glaring look-, and yes, he was still tired and felt sore, but still…to have his brothers with him and his best friend, to be relatively save from further injuries and on his way home…it felt good.

Too good to be true, as it seemed.

"Hey, elves! Scum! I am hungry!"

Aragorn started slightly, a gesture not lost on his companions. They exchanged some weary glances, but said nothing. Who was going to bring Dagnir something to eat? For they could not let him starve, that would not do. But still, the anger and hurt sat deep, and when Aragorn looked into Elladan's face, he knew that his oldest brother had no intention at all to bring Dagnir some food.

Elrohir seemed to ponder the question for a moment, but then he shook his head and said in elvish, "Let him hunger, perhaps that curbs his tongue."

While Elladan nodded his agreement, Legolas looked hesitant. It was clear that he wanted Dagnir to pay for what he had done, but some other thoughts seemed to run through his mind as well.

"He will yell the whole night, and alarm every fell creature for leagues around if we do not silence him."

"Right…" Elladan gave the tied human another glance and then stood up. But where Legolas had thought about giving Dagnir some food to silence him, Elladan had other ideas.

"Ro, give me that pack, please."

Once handed the pack, Elladan rummaged through it for a little while, and then took out some spare cloth. Legolas frowned, but said nothing. That had not been his intention when he had opted to silence the man, but who was he to argue with Elladan, when his heart agreed wholeheartedly?

Aragorn sat in silence when his brother approached Dagnir and then gagged the man, but when his brother returned to the fire and sat down with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, he nodded thankfully.

Normally, it was not his nature to hurt other humans, or treat them anything other than politely, but Dagnir was…he was evil. And even now, with his brothers and friend, Aragorn felt this evil emanate from the man like water from a broken bottle. Oh, he was no longer afraid of Dagnir, not really, but what he had gone through, three years ago and now, it would be burned into his memory forever.

Burned, indeed, he though sarcastically, and tugged at the bandage around his hand. The burn wound throbbed ceaselessly, and the skin felt dry and tense when he moved his fingers – which he tried to avoid, as it hurt fiercely.

"Let me see that." Elrohir had scooted closer to Aragorn without him noticing, a true sign that he was not well. Obediently, he stretched his hand out to let his brother take a look at the wound. With quick but gentle fingers, Elrohir peeled away the bandage, trying to ignore the wince that Aragorn gave when the fabric stuck to his skin, and then held the hand a bit closer to the firelight.

"It looks better already, but it will take time to heal." He placed his finger over the burn and traced the edges lightly, "No infection, that is good." He examined the injury another moment, and then rewound the injury.

"Estel, it mends well, but I fear it will take a long time until you will be able to wield a sword again with that hand."

Aragorn sighed. "I know." And then, just like an elf, he switched his tone into one of humour, "Good thing I am ambidextrous."

Groaning, Elladan wagged his finger at his foster brother, "As if. Do you remember the last time you wielded a sword with your left hand?"

"Ah, …no." It was clear that Aragorn very well remembered the incident, but he grinned at his brother nevertheless.

"So, you do not remember. Ro, have you heard that?"

"I have, Dan." Elrohir grinned wickedly while settling down to Aragorn's left. "Shall we remind him?"

"Absolutely! Estel, the last time you fought left handed was when you had broken your arm, do you remember, that was…four years ago."

Elrohir took up the tale while Legolas listened intently; that was a tale he had never been told before.

"Yes, you broke it while trying to jump from your balcony to the ground, because you thought we were going to kill you for putting…Dan, what was it he used?"

"Honey-Mud."

"Right, for putting mud made out of sand and honey into our boots. Which we, of course, saw before putting them on."

Aragorn snorted softly, but Elrohir continued as if he had not heard him, "And then we made that little trip into the forest, because ada wanted to have us out of the house. You see, Legolas, he claimed we were too loud. As if, we are graceful elves after all."

Another snort came from Aragorn, and while Elrohir was busy glaring at him, Elladan took up the tale, "Well, yes, there we were in the forest, when some wolves decided to have us for lunch. In the battle, young Estel here managed not only to behead the wolf he was fighting, but to cut his own right arm off as well. Nearly."

"I did not, Dan," Aragorn threw in with mock annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you that the ground was muddy and that I slipped? It was not my fault."

Elrohir mumbled something under his breath that sounded like "Aye, and if a hobbit cannot cook, it is because of the spoon he uses.", causing Legolas to lower his face to hide his wide grin.

"What was that Ro?" Aragorn asked, but the younger twin only shook his head as if he had no idea what his brother was talking about and then reached for a cup. "Tea, anyone?"

Aragorn glared at him for a moment longer but then sighed and admitted defeat. And tea sounded good, after all. Despite his banter with his brothers, he felt still very tired and exhausted. Furthermore, the night was cold, and he felt the first shivers crawl down his spine. Aye, tea was a good idea.

"Yes please, Ro."

Filling the cup he held with the sweet smelling clover tea he had brewed, Elrohir handed the cup to Aragorn, who took it gratefully and then lifted it to his mouth to blew on the hot tea before drinking.

Suddenly, Elrohir said sharply, "Estel, where is it?"

Confused, Aragorn let the cup sink and stared at his brother. "Where is what?"

Elrohir chanced a quick look in the direction of Dagnir and then whispered, "Barahir. Where is your ring?"

Elladan gasped, and Legolas leaned closer. None of them had noticed that the ring was missing, but now that Elrohir had said it, they saw that the silver ring with the green stone and the two snakes was not were it should be: On Aragorn's left forefinger, where it had been since the day he had been told of his heritage.

Aragorn looked at his hand as if he only now noticed that the ring was gone, and he paled visibly. Lifting his eyes to his companions, he said softly, "I forgot. How could I forget?"

Feeling his brother's guilt about having forgotten about the precious heirloom, Elrohir placed his hand on Aragorn's uninjured shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "You were wounded and in pain, we understand that. But Estel, where is it?"

They all knew that, should the ring be lost or fall into the hands of the enemy, it would be a hard blow indeed. Until now, the enemy had shown no further interest in the Dunedain, not more than it ever had; as far as they knew, the darkness was still unaware that the heir of Isildur was still alive. But should this change….the consequences would be devastating…deadly.

Aragorn lifted his gaze and it moved to the silent form of Dagnir, whom the shadows of the night had nearly hidden. Swallowing, Aragorn said silently, "When I woke up the morning after the,…well after he had had his fun, Barahir was gone. I think he took it."

Elladan snarled, and gave Dagnir such a furious and disgusted look that for a moment the elf looked truly dwarvish. After they had treated Aragorn the night before and made sure that Dagnir would survive as well, they had searched the packs of the humans and had not only found Aragorn's pack, cloak and provisions, but also his weapons. The ring had not been in any of the packs, which could only mean that Dagnir still had it on him. When they had examined him for weapons, they had not checked him for a small ring!

Legolas tucked a strand of blonde hair behind his ear and leaned ever closer. "What shall we do now? We cannot simply search him again and take it back, can we? He is not as dumb as he may look, he could suspect something." And even softer he added, "If he does not already."

Elrohir sighed heavily, and Legolas could see that he was deep in thought. Elladan, anger still written on his features, narrowed his eyes and took in the dark figure of Dagnir. Since he had gagged the human, Dagnir had neither moved nor made any sound, and they could not even be sure if he was still awake.

Absently, Aragorn ran his thumb over his left forefinger where his ring should sit. It was a gesture he was not aware of, as he used to do this since the day the ring had been passed to him. Now, being reminded by Elrohir that the ring was gone, his hand felt suddenly so light and…naked. As if not only Barahir was missing, but a part of himself.

A tiny twig cracked in the fire, and red glowing sparks flew high into the sky, like tiny fireflies. A thick tension filled the small clearing, but then Elrohir took another deep breath and emerged from his thoughts. His bright eyes locked on Aragorn, and he asked softly,

"Estel, did he say something to you about Barahir? Has he mentioned it, or Gondor or…anything about you-know-what?"

Even in a silent and dark forest, with no one around for leagues, Elrohir dared not speak of Aragorn's true identity openly. The enemy had many spies, and they had long learned that caution was better than to bury the dead and mourn them.

Aragorn thought a moment and then shook his head, suppressing a moan when even this little movement send a sharp pain through his shoulder.

"Nay, he was more interested in other things, at least while I was awake. He never mentioned Barahir; indeed I do not think that he even saw it."

But then he frowned, and Aragorn's eyes took on a far away look. He seemed to shake himself out of his memories and added hoarsely, "He told me about what happened three years ago, and he mentioned that he had been a Captain in Gondor. Well we knew that already, but perhaps he has seen pictures of Barahir during his time as Captain. And then when he saw the ring, he…" Aragorn trailed off, but there was no need for him to continue.

If he was right and Dagnir had indeed taken the ring, and not only because it was a beautiful piece of art, but because he knew about the ring's history and what it stood for, then things had just taken a turn for the worse.

Cursing under his breath, Elladan poked the fire with a long stick, causing the flames to hiss and flicker angrily.

"If that….that vermin thinks he can get away with this, then he is very much mistaken."

He made as if to get to his feet, but Legolas quickly laid his hand on his arm. "Dan, you cannot go over there now and take it back. Then he will know that there is more to the ring than he might have thought."

"And what do you propose? That we do nothing? It is not his to wear!"

"I know, Elladan, I know. But perhaps waiting is more effective now than rushing things. Please, Dan. Perhaps he has no idea what he has in his possession. We can take the ring from him when we are in Imladris. He will be given new clothing then, I am sure. Then, we can take the ring back, for indeed I have no doubt that he has it."

Elladan seemed unwilling to accept that solution, but after a moment, he relaxed some of the tension in his body, and settled down more comfortably near the fire.

"Still, I do not like it."

"Neither do I, mellon nin, neither do I."

"We could knock him out, well, just a tiny little bit, and then take it," Elladan grumbled, but he was not truly serious, and they all knew it.

And with that, silence settled over the small group, and the merriment of only minutes prior was gone as completely as snow in summer. A small shiver raced down Aragorn's spine, and he took a sip from his warm tea to chase away the chill in his bones.

He felt guilty for not having hindered Dagnir from taking Barahir, although he knew that there was nothing that he could have done to prevent it. He had not been able to move, paralysed by the poison and asleep on top of that, but still…His mind told him that he was blameless, where his heart told him that it was his responsibility to protect the heirloom and to make sure that nothing ill befell it.

Another shiver went through his body, and his hand holding the cup of tea shook so violently that some of the hot liquid spilled over. Aragorn more felt than saw Elrohir's concerned look, and was not surprised when his brother's gentle fingers took the cup from him and placed it on the ground.

"Estel, you are tired and in pain. Get some sleep, tomorrow will be a long day."

"All days are long while the shadow lasts, brother," Aragorn mumbled, but then simply laid down where he sat, his back to the log and his face towards the warm fire. He was asleep within moments.

Looking down at his sleeping brother, Elrohir spread his own cloak over the still form, and then gently wiped some strands of dark hair away from the pale face. Seeing his brother injured or ill was not new to him, but right now Aragorn looked much younger than he was. For a moment, Elrohir saw the little boy Aragorn had once been, and his heart constricted painfully.

Aragorn had not deserved what he was going through. The pain and fear, the uncertainty and the knowledge that the poison that was coursing through all their bodies could very well kill them. And Elrohir had no doubt that Aragorn felt guilty for their own predicament, for the poison had only been meant for him, and not for them.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Elrohir scooted nearer to his foster brother, so that no evil would befall him during the night. His gaze swept over the dark forest and the flickering flames that emitted a soft orange glow. A lonely owl hooted, and he heard the nightly animals stalk through the woods, hunting and being hunted.

After a while, Legolas took out his twin knives and some cloth and oil and began to clean and polish his weapons, and Elladan followed his example. With a whetstone he sharpened his daggers and sword, and when he had finished that, he sharpened Elrohir's weapons as well.

Neither of the elves had any intention to sleep, but when the night grew even darker and the forest quieter, Legolas and Elladan went to sleep while Elrohir held watch. They had shortly debated who would take the watch, but Elrohir had claimed that he was not at all sleepy, and that it had not been him who had held and supported Aragorn for the whole day, and neither had it been him who had taken care of the prisoner. Legolas and Elladan had then agreed, and wandered off into elvish dreams.

The hours passed slowly, even for an elf, and the moon was already nearing the horizon and dawn was near, when Elrohir felt Aragorn move in his sleep. He turned and twisted, his lips forming silent words as if his voice was not strong enough to speak.

Bending down, Elrohir placed his hand on Aragorn's cheek, murmuring softly, "Shh, Estel. Sleep, all is well. Sleep and dream no more."

But instead of calming his brother, Aragorn moved even more violently and then opened his eyes with a snap. Pained and confused eyes looked around the clearing, and it took Aragorn a moment to realize where he was, and with whom.

A small sigh left his lips, and then he took a deep breath and looked guiltily up at Elrohir, who eyed him worriedly. While he had been a child, Aragorn had been plagued by many nightmares, but even as a child, he had never told them about his dreams. Aragorn would seek comfort in their arms and huddle close to them in these nights, but never say a word. Then the time had come when Aragorn was too old to seek shelter in their rooms when he had been assaulted by his nightmares. Still, they all suspected that the dreams had either decreased in number up to the point where it was no longer worrisome, or ceased at all.

Now, looking into his brother's pale and pained face, Elrohir wondered for a moment whether this assumption had been correct after all. Elrohir placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder and squeezed gently, ever mindful of his numerous injuries.

The man looked up at him guiltily and asked in a whisper, "I hope I have not woken the others?"

"Nay, Estel, they sleep still, do not worry." He waited a moment, but when his brother only nodded and said no more, Elrohir continued, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He knew that it would most likely be to no avail to ask; Aragorn was proud and stubborn, and he had refused to talk about his dreams for many years now. But Elrohir had been trained by his father in the healing arts, and furthermore he knew from own experience that dreams were a way to help the spirit to heal. And to talk about ones dreams, could sometimes be as helpful as healing the body.

For long moments, stillness reigned between them, and all that could be heard where the crackling fire and the soft breathing noises of Elladan and Legolas. Then suddenly, a twig snapped in the forest around them, and in an instant Elrohir got to his feet, bow drawn and arrow nocked.

Aragorn tried to grasp his sword that lay near him, but Elrohir shushed him and he stilled his movements. With narrowed eyes, Elrohir tried to pierce the darkness around them, and where the glow of the fire did not touch, the shadows were even darker and the night more dangerous.

Another twig snapped, and Elrohir turned and aimed his arrow at the trees from whence the sound had come. His brother's posture spoke of tension and alertness, and Aragorn could not help but think of the fourth human, Morgwath, if he remembered correctly. Had the man somehow managed to follow them? Had he found them and was now lurking in the darkness, perhaps even aiming his own arrow at them? Aragorn had not forgotten the accuracy with which the man had shot him in the clearing he had been trapped in, and for a moment fear gripped his heart with icy fingers.

A rustle in the underbrush, the sound of soft paws on the ground, and then the red head of an old fox peeked through the bushes at the other side of the small camp. Elrohir released a sigh and lowered his bow.

Even in the darkness he could tell that the animal was old; the snout showed more white hair then red, the fur looked dull, the body thin,and the eyes told of a long and weary life in the wild. The fox took a tentative step towards them, lowering his head; he was clearly not trying to attack.

Elrohir took some of the dried meat that they had had for dinner, and then threw it into the direction of the fox. It landed some feet away from the animal, and the fox only hesitatingly neared it. But when it smelled the meat, it only sniffed at it once and then eagerly ate it.

For a moment the fox stared at them, but then it turned and vanished into the darkness, and a moment later the woods were silent once more. With a deep breath, Elrohir sat down again, and his voice was soft when he spoke,

"The winter has barely begun, but already he was hungry enough to come close to our fire. This fox will not last the winter."

His voice betrayed his sorrow, for the elves honoured all animals and took only so much from the forest as they needed. They did not hunt for sport or enjoyment, and to them the death of an animal was almost as sad as the passage of an elf into the West.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets and staring into the fire, Aragorn nodded. "Aye, this winter will take many lives, as has the last and will the one next year. It is the circle of life, and it is not in our hands to change that."

Frowning, Elrohir regarded his brother with a worried look. That was the second time that evening that Aragorn had said something so grave, and Erohir wondered where these depressing thoughts came from. It was not the first time that Aragorn was wounded, but never before had he been that downcast.

"Estel? What is it?"

Aragorn blinked, but did not answer. His gaze lingered on the flames, and he seemed far away with his thoughts. But then, just when Elrohir thought that his brother would not answer at all, a whisper reached his ears.

"Ro, I have never asked this before, but…" Aragorn swallowed, and his voice was so low that Elrohir had to strain his ears to hear him.

"Who took Barahir from my father, after he was killed?"

Shock tore through Elrohir, for that was not the answer he had anticipated. For a moment, he could not answer, as all words left him. Suddenly, he had a suspicion what his brother's nightmare had been about, and he cursed Dagnir silently for bringing up that old pain by stealing the ring of Barahir.

Licking his lips and taking a breath, Elrohir did the only thing that he could do; he spoke the truth,

"Elladan and I were with your father when he died, you know that. And you know that we could not bring his body back to either Imladris or your own people, as we were far from both. It was Elladan who took the ring from him, so that it could be passed on to you. As well as his star."

Elrohir did not tell him that it had taken Elladan a great amount of self-control to take the ring; to slip it from the bloodied and lifeless finger of their friend, and that it had been even more difficult to dig a shallow grave and throw earth over the pale and still face of Arathorn. There had been no bravery left, only sadness. The smell of death and the stench of orcs had hung in the air, and when they had turned from the battle, Elladan and Elrohir had left part of their own hearts behind.

Never before had Aragorn asked them of the details of that day, although he had asked them a lot about his father; how he had been when he had been his age, how he had met his mother, their few short years together and what the lives of them had been like. But, until this day, he had never asked about the details of the day his father had died.

Sighing, Elrohir glanced at Aragorn. The young man was still lying on the ground near the low burning fire, huddled in the blankets and cloak, only his head visible. Aragorn was looking into the dancing flames, but it seemed as if he was far away with his thoughts and not aware of Elrohir's scrutinizing gaze.

_/There are shadows on his face that I never noticed before. And lines where there were none when we parted near the mountains./ _

Taking another deep breath, Elrohir placed his hand on Aragorn's back and began to absently rub it in soothing circles, as he had done when his brother had been a small child and sought shelter from his nightmares in his arms.

Looking out into the darkness, Elrohir felt his brother slowly relax, and when Aragorn drifted off to sleep again, he had to suppress the lump in his throat.

His intensive gaze flickered to the pale moon, which was nearly full.

_/He ages so fast…./_.

Tbc…

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So, that was chapter 21. Did you like it? Wouldn't it be nice to tell me, then? And if you did not like it, wouldn't it then be even nicer to tell me? Come now, I **"know"** you want to tell me... **g**. Until next time! 


	23. 22 Best laid plans

**Beta: Chris!**

_Elvish translations:_

Hannon le: Thank you

Mellon nin: My friend

Muindor: brother by blood

**Thanks to all the nice reviews, the replies went out yesterday! If I forgot someone, I am truly sorry.**

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_"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away."_

_(Unknown)

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_

Chapter 22: Best laid plans

Morning dawned cold and misty, but around midday the sun broke through the clouds and with the weak rays the mist vanished, and the damp grass and leaves dried. Birds greeted Anor with their twittering, and when the soft breeze caught in the trees, a shower of red and brown leaves sailed to the ground like a curtain of shining pearls.

They had broken camp early, stopped around noon to rest the horses and themselves, and when evening came, they crossed a small stream and made camp on the other side. The gurgling of the river was soothing and provided a good barrier against wolves and other nightly hunters, at least from one side.

Given, it would be colder so close to the water, but Legolas lit a fire, and it chased away the darkness as well as the chill that crawled onto the land from the river. While they had stopped around noon, Legolas had collected some chestnuts, which he now roasted in the fire. They smelled inviting, and although Aragorn still felt no hunger, he knew that they would taste delicious.

Leaning his tired and aching body against the rock in his back, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment. They had made good progress during the day and had actually travelled further than they had planned. If they continued with this speed, they could reach Imladris in four or five days, and the thought was encouraging.

He had not admitted it to his brothers or friend, but his shoulder ached whenever he moved, and he felt more tired than he had ever before. That was most likely caused by his blood loss and the fact that he had not eaten enough in the last week, but try as he might, he could not bring his stomach to accept more food.

But his aching shoulder was not his most serious concern; that was his knee. Elrohir had taken a look at it in the morning before they had broken camp, and from the set yaw of his brother and the worry in his eyes, Aragorn knew that it was looking bad.

Although, it had not needed his brother to tell him that. The knee hurt with every step the horse took, and even without touching it, he could feel that it was swollen and the skin hot. His leggings stretched over his knee, and that alone told of the gravity of the injury.

While Elrohir had examined his knee, Aragorn had been hard pressed to suppress his moans of agony, but he knew his brother had sensed his pain. With trepidation Aragorn thought back on the unfortunate ranger who had fallen down the steep incline and had then been forced to undergo the extremely painful healing procedure.

Sighing inwardly, Aragorn hoped that his knee would not require the treatment, and that should it indeed be necessary, that it could wait until they were back in Imladris, where his father could brew him a sleeping draught, so that he would not have to live through the treatment while awake.

He was just drifting off to sleep when a voice called him out of his rest,

"Estel?"

"Mh?" he asked sleepily, prying his heavy eyelids open.

Before him stood Legolas, a bowl of soup in one, and a cup of tea in the other hand. Smiling gently, he placed the food next to his friend and then went to retrieve his own food. Settling down next to Aragorn, who warmed his still somewhat scratched hands by holding the cup of steaming tea, Legolas let his gaze wander over the small area where they had made camp.

"I think I have been here before."

"Yes? When?"

Legolas's brow furrowed for a moment. He took his bowl of soup and after taking a spoonful of the hot liquid, he answered,

"Some years ago, I think, in summer. My escort and I came down from the mountains, and we followed this river downstream for some leagues. And this place looks exactly like the spot we stayed for a night back then."

His blue eyes searched the river for a moment, and then he suddenly gestured with his spoon to the other side, some ways downstream.

"Estel, do you see the willow there? On the other side?" It was dark already, and although the moon was almost full, the trees created deep shadows. But Aragorn nodded nevertheless, having no problems seeing the huge willow that Legolas pointed out.

"We found excellent mushrooms under that willow back then. Thunder-Cap mushrooms and Whistle-Heads(1)."

"Truly?" Aragorn sounded only slightly interested, his voice tired and his eyelids already half closed again. For a moment, Legolas gazed at his friend sadly, but then he lifted his voice and started talking again. He wanted to cheer his friend up, be it for only some few moments. And, he had promised the twins to keep Aragorn's attention diverted for some minutes, so that they could talk without him noticing.

"Mhm, yes. Thalimar, the captain of the escort, accidentally stepped on a Whistle-Head, and the mushroom started whistling as the air left its cup. Thalimar was so startled that he stumbled and fell onto the ground, right into all the other Whistle-Heads growing there. We laughed so hard: I think the whole forest heard us. But, we had a good meal that evening."

"Legolas, sometimes you sound just like a Hobbit."

"Well, better than to smell like a dwarf, I guess," Legolas replied, a smile on his lips. He ate another spoonful of soup and then gestured with his spoon at Aragorn's untouched meal.

"You should eat, Estel, the soup is getting cold."

Eyeing the bowl with dismay, Aragorn took a deep breath. "I am not hungry, mellon nin, I am sorry."

Legolas frowned. "Estel, you have to eat, even if you are not hungry. Your body is healing and it needs the nourishment. You have barely eaten yesterday evening, and what you ate this morning would not be enough to sustain a squirrel. Estel, please, just a bit."

"Legolas, I am not hungry, and the thought alone makes my stomach sick."

"That is only because you have not eaten. You will see, as soon as you have taken a few spoonfuls, you will feel better. You can stop if you feel sick." And with a quick grin, he added, "Just for me, Estel, please."

Giving his friend a frustrated look, Aragorn nodded and then picked up his own bowl and spoon. He dipped it into the soup, lifted it to his mouth, and after another deep breath, he slowly ate his soup.

To Aragorn's own surprise, Legolas was right, and although he felt rather sick at the beginning, with every spoonful he ate, he felt better. After finishing his soup, Legolas patted his shoulder in appraisal, and went to the fire to see if the chestnuts were ready.

Aragorn watched him tiredly, and by the time Legolas returned to him, carrying some of the roasted chestnuts in freshly picked leaves, Aragorn had already fallen asleep. Smiling, Legolas settled his friend more comfortably, placed his bow and quiver beside himself, and then began to peel the chestnuts.

His gaze travelled along the tree line, and he asked himself when the twins would return. They had volunteered to take care of the horses and Dagnir, while Legolas prepared the food and the camp. Of course, that had been part of the diversion.

Elladan and Elrohir wanted to have some time to be able to talk undisturbed, and without Aragorn hearing. But still, Legolas began to wonder how long they would stay away. Putting another chestnut in his mouth, he looked at the others that lay near the fire.

_/They better hurry, else all the chestnuts will be gone when they return…/_

--oOo--

"We cannot do that out here; he could lose the use of his leg or bleed to death. We should wait until we are back home."

Elrohir scratched his cheek lightly and looked at his brother in the darkness. To human eyes Elladan's face would have been nothing but a brighter speck in the blackness, but Elrohir could see his brother's face very well, with all the emotions flickering through the dark eyes.

He sighed. "I know, Dan, and I wished there was another way, but it looks bad. Truly bad. To wait could lead to the same result. When the infection in his knee spreads or the blood clumps, he could die as well."

Chewing his bottom lip, Elladan gazed into the dark forest for a moment before he answered, "Ro I…I do not want to do that. It will hurt tremendously, and we cannot even give him something to put him to sleep out of fear that his body might fall into shock. He would have to undergo the treatment while conscious and I….Ro, I just cannot …."

Elladan's voice broke, and he let his head hang, his dark hair hiding his features. For many minutes they were now discussing Aragorn's injuries and the best way to treat him, their concerns and worries. Legolas had volunteered to keep their brother occupied, so that he would not worry that they were gone longer than was necessary to take care of the horses and their prisoner.

They had bound Dagnir to one of the old but strong trees that grew in this area, and had then taken the horses some way downriver to water them. Now, the horses had long drunken their fill and were grazing, but Elladan and Elrohir had not yet come to a solution to their current problem.

"Elladan, I know it will hurt him, but if we wait, the leg could become stiff and then he will not be able to use it. He will have a strong limp for the rest of his days. The knee is damaged badly, with blood collecting behind the kneecap and probably even between the muscles and sinews. It has already started to clump slightly, and when infection sets in, we could even be forced to…to remove the leg. Dan, I rather cause him pain now, then to be responsible for him losing his leg."

Suddenly, anger flared in Elladan's eyes, and the lifted his head and glared into the general direction of Dagnir,

"It would not be our fault, but his. Oh, Ro, I swear that tark(2) will pay."

"Aye, he will, but not here and now. We have to take care of Estel first, and then reach home, and then fight the poison. After that we will deal with Dagnir."

"If he still lives then, for I am not sure what Glorfindel will do to him once he learns what he has done to Estel."

"True."

Silence reigned for a moment, and both twins relished the thought of the Balrog-Slayer dealing with Dagnir, but then Elladan sighed deeply. They needed to make a decision, and it was time to return to Estel and Legolas.

"I do not like it, Ro, but I think you are right, and we need to do it."

Nodding sadly, Elrohir squeezed his brother's shoulder gently. "He will understand. He is a healer himself, and I think he already knows what has to be done, although he has not yet accepted it."

"I am scared, Ro, and it is not even me who has to endure it. What if something goes wrong? What if we accidentally cut a sinew or damage the muscle? What if we cause more bleeding or hurt the kneecap? He has already lost so much blood and is in pain, I do not know how much more he can take."

Elrohir gripped his brother's shoulder tighter and his face was determined when he spoke, "Aye, many things can go wrong. But we are not alone, Legolas is here as well, and he will be a great source of support for Estel. And our brother is stronger than he looks, and he will make it through the procedure, you will see.

"I hope you are right, muindor, I hope you are right."

TThey returned to the camp, only to find that Aragorn had already fallen asleep, and that Legolas was just peeling the very last chestnut, grinning sheepishly.

--oOo--

The forest was silent and dark when Morgwath reached an old campsite. Reaching forwards and placing his hand into the ashes of the fire, the man smiled as he noticed that the ashes were still somewhat warm.

Straightening up, he let his gaze travel around the campsite, and in his mind he could almost see what had happened here only a night ago, and who had rested here. There were signs of at least six horses, probably seven, some tracks here and some there.

His grin widened when Morgwath saw that someone, most likely Dagnir, had been bound to a tree. The bark clearly showed signs of ropes, and there were some churned needles and a broken branch.

Yes, he thought darkly, the elves and the ranger had been here, with Dagnir as prisoner. And he was only a day behind despite the pain that raced up and down his injured arm and shoulder.

With a deep breath and an unholy gleam in his eyes, Morgwath resumed his fast pace and sped away into the forest. The elves had a head start, but he was not far behind. Now it paid that he had left the site of the rockslide immediately after the battle and had made his way northwest.

Sometime during the day, the elves had passed him by, faster with the horses, but Morgwath knew where they were headed and had no problem following them. Imladris was the only elven settlement west of the Misty Mountains, where else should they go?

And so, the man vanished into the dark night, eager to fulfil his duty. A duty that bound him closely to Dagnir.

--oOo--

Aragorn took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. It did not help; not at all. He was feeling sick to the stomach, and the urge to heave grew stronger by the moment. His hands trembled slightly, and when he raised his uninjured hand to wipe his brow, he could feel the cold sweat there.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed thickly and once more went over what his brothers had just told him. They would treat his knee. Here, in the wild, without the proper equipment, without the proper herbs, without enough bandages, without something to send him to sleep, without the precise knowledge how to do it, without his father to help him, and…without his consent.

Oh, they had asked him about his opinion, but he had seen in their eyes that they had already made their decision, and they would not be swayed. His mouth was dry as a desert, and all the sounds he heard were too loud and too harsh, the wind was suddenly too cold, the ground too hard and the sun too bright, despite the clouds that veiled it.

No, nothing was right, absolutely nothing was right. Why were his brothers doing this to him? Did they relish the sight of him being in pain? What were they thinking when they decided that they would try to "help" him?

By Elbereth! They were in the middle of nowhere! What if something did go wrong? No, Valar, something "had" already gone wrong! They were going to treat his knee, here in the wild. Where had their common sense gone? Were they mad? Was it the poison that had let them to take leave of their senses? He was only human! And, by the Valar, he was their brother!

The sun had woken Aragorn only an hour ago to a pink dawn and the now really soothing twittering of birds, not like that annoying little bird back in the other clearing. But things had turned for the worse when his brothers had told him about their late night decision. Anger rose so quickly in his chest that it made him snap his eyes open and glare at his brothers, who were busily preparing what they would need.

Aragorn's gaze found Elrohir's, and at least the younger twin had the curtseyto look away. Elladan refused to meet his gaze; he had his back turned to him and was cleaning the sharp knives that they would use.

Looking around, Aragorn saw Legolas coming back from checking on the horses, and for a moment Aragorn felt betrayed. Of course, now in hindsight, he saw that Legolas had diverted him from his brother's absence the night before, and the sudden need to make sure that the horses were alright was only an excuse to be away when the twins broke the news to him.

But, when Legolas looked at him, guilt and fear and worry written on his features, the anger and betrayal vanished out of Aragorn's heart, and all that was left was plain fear. Fear and worry.

Oh, he knew that it was necessary to finally treat the injury, but…A picture sprang to his mind: the ranger who had injured his knee and had been treated. The pain filled screams of agony, the shudders, the fever, the huge amount of blood…

Bile rose in Aragorn's throat, and he closed his eyes tightly. His breathing quickened, but he could not help it. He should not feel so scared, he was a warrior after all, and had endured many painful injuries with nothing but a shrug of his shoulders. He was strong, and proud, and battle hardened in many ways. But, he could not deny the fact that he felt totally and utterly afraid of what was to come.

Through his many thoughts and musings, Aragorn heard the soft footstep of an elf approaching him, and then the unmistakable sound of someone sitting down next to him. The scent of trees and grass filled the air, mixed with fresh water and horses, and Aragorn did not need to open his eyes to see who had sat down next to him.

They were silent for a moment, but then Legolas voice reached him. "Estel?"

Worry swung in that single word, together with guilt and a bit of nervousness. Aragorn knew that his friend must be worried as well, who would not be if his best friend were going to face a surgery in the woods?

"Estel? Please, say something."

"What shall I tell you, Legolas? That all will be well? I cannot do that, for that would be naught but a white lie."

"I want to help you, mellon nin."

Opening his eyes, Aragorn gave Legolas a wry smile. "Then do me a favour and convince Elladan and Elrohir that what they plan is folly."

Serious eyes looked back at him, and Legolas's voice was level when he answered, "They know it is folly, but they will do it nevertheless to save your life."

"Save my life?" Aragorn could not help but sound appalled. "Legolas, have they told you what they are going to do? And what will happen if they make a mistake?"

Legolas nodded. "They have, and I will not tell you that I am not scared and worried because that would indeed be a lie. And they have told me what can go wrong. But they have also told me what can happen when we do nothing, and I think the merits outweigh the risks."

Shaking his head and ignoring the pain the movement caused his shoulder, Aragorn nearly spat, "Should that not be my decision? It is my knee we are talking about, after all!"

"No, it is your life we are talking about," Legolas said quietly.

Aragorn's eyes flashed and then turned such a stormy grey as Legolas had never seen before. "Then it "should" be my decision."

And with that, Aragorn turned away from Legolas, unwilling to continue the conversation. A sigh left Legolas lips, but he could not be angry with his friend. He could feel the uneasiness and fear that engulfed the man like a dark cloud, and Aragorn had spoken out of fear and worry, not fury.

And could he dismiss his friend for that? What the twins were about to do was not easily done, and in a forest without the right medicinal supplies…Aragorn was right, it was folly.

But alas, they had no choice. They all knew that should the injury worsen, Aragorn could not only lose the use of his leg, but his life as well. So, was it not worth to try to save his life?

Aragorn became aware of Legolas squeezing his shoulder, and he sighed in defeat. "Legolas, I am sorry. I know you want to help me but…" His voice cracked, and he was unable to speak further.

Tightening his hold on his friend's shoulder, Legolas smiled knowingly. "You are not alone any longer in this, mellon nin. I will stay by your side, and I will not leave you. Together we will face it and prevail."

To Legolas's relief, Aragorn turned towards him and gave him a weak smile, and placed his uninjured hand over Legolas's.

"Hannon le, my friend."

Nodding, Legolas scooted nearer to Aragorn, and together they watched how the twins prepared the knives, blankets, bandages and herbs. None of them said it, but both dreaded the moment the twins would still their movements, for then the time would have come to begin with the "treatment."

--oOo--

His voice was barely above a whisper, but his brother heard him nevertheless, "Tell me the steps once again, Ro. Just to make sure that nothing goes wrong."

Elrohir sighed softly, but then nodded. He resumed cleaning one of the blades while he said, "First, we clean the area around the injury. This means we clean the whole knee, and the skin around the knee. Second, we try to numb the knee with stinging nettle juice. Third, we probe the area behind the knee for torn muscles and to determine were be best set the cut."

Here, Elladan nodded grimly, and Elrohir faltered in his cleaning for a second. When the younger twin resumed his narrative, his voice was shaking slightly, but determined nevertheless.

"Fourth, we make a deep cut behind the knee and try to clean out as much of the clotted blood as possible. We search for bone chips, or anything that is not as it should be. We have to cut as deep as the kneecap, but make sure not to injure the sinews, muscles or bones. The cap must not be scratched or touched; otherwise the pain will be too much to bear. Five, we clean the wound with water and herbs.

"Six, we dry the wound as best we can, close and sew it, and then apply camomile and foxglove. That should reduce the swelling and prevent infection. We have to keep the knee immobile and cooled.

"Of course, Estel will not be able to move for at least a day at all, and after that he should not move that leg too much. Therefore we will apply a strong splint. Riding will be difficult, as the leg will hang down from the horse and the blood could rush into the injury and collect there again, but we have no other choice. Of course, we could make a litter, but then we would be slowed down considerably."

Elrohir placed the gleaming knife to the two others that he had already cleaned, and then moved to the fire to stir the pain reducing tea. Already they were running low on these herbs, but Elrohir wanted to help his brother as best he could.

From his father he knew that knee injuries were one of the most painful injuries, and to do surgery on the knee was something his father tried to avoid if possible. And when he did, he usually made sure that his patients were in a deep sleep, unaware of what was happening around them. And, Elorhir thought grimly, his father kept his patients in that sleep for at least two full days before waking them.

Elladan swallowed, but then nodded his agreement. He knew what he had to do, but to hear it again from his brother gave him the assurance he needed. His hands trembled slightly, and he could not bring himself to look in Aragorn's direction. He knew his brother was afraid and worried, and he hated it to cause his brother fear.

But no, it had to be done, the sooner the better. They could not wait till they reached Imladris, and they all knew that. Elladan cut the last root he was using into tiny pieces, mashed them, and then added a bit of water. They would use the paste to apply to the wound later on to cool it.

Suddenly, Elladan heard Elrohir gasp beside him, and then the younger twin grabbed at his chest and slouched forwards a bit.

"Ro?"

Elrohir did not know what happened with him. From one second to the other, he was not able to breathe. The air in his lungs felt hot and thick; he could not draw in sufficient breath, and his chest suddenly hurt as if a troll sat on it.

A gasp escaped his lips, and he sank forwards, nearly falling into the flickering fire. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. What was this? His fear? His worry? Why…

_/The poison/_

This thought raced through his entire being, and suddenly Elrohir knew what his feeling the last days had tried to tell him. It had tried to warn him about the poison. They had felt that it had not yet relinquished its hold on them, and what Dagnir had told them had underlined that thought, but to feel it now…it was scary.

Another gasp escaped his lips as his lungs screamed in pain, unwilling to accept the air he forced them to take. Spots began to dance in his line of vision, and his blood pounded in his ears. His legs and arms began to shake, and then he felt them tingle and burn, and slowly his strength waned.

With a weak protest, he slumped forwards completely, still not able to breathe properly.

Elladan watched with frightened and confused eyes how his brother struggled to breathe and then slumped forwards, right into the fire. With quick reflexes, Elladan lunged for his brother and caught him in the last moment before he could fall into the hot flames.

Some dark hair fizzled in the fire, but that was all the flames received to consume, and then Elladan laid his brother on the soft grass, facing upwards. "Elrohir? What is it? Ro?"

With pale fingers Elrohir grasped at his own neck, his chest moving with his effort to breathe. Bright, big eyes focused on Elladan, but no word left Elrohir's lips. Not knowing what to do, Elladan placed his hands on his brother's cheeks, pleading with him,

"Ro? Ro, what is it? What is happening to you? Ro, please, breathe, Ro. Please, Ro!"

Watching in horror as Elrohir's lips turned slightly blue, Elladan suddenly knew that it must be the poison that was attacking his brother, and his fear intensified. If it was indeed the poison, then there was nothing he could do to truly help his twin. Nothing to keep him away from Mandos's Halls.

Yes, he could try to cut into his airway to help him breathe, or massage his chest to ease his lungs, or give him some muscle relaxing tea, or breathe for him, or…

His frantic thoughts were disrupted when he suddenly felt someone sit down heavily beside him. Looking up, he saw Aragorn crouching in the grass beside Elrohir, and Legolas kneeling down on the other side. Both were looking scared and at a loss of what to do.

"It is the poison, it must be!" Legolas said, already opening Elrohir's tunic to try to ease his breathing, knowing full well that it would not help.

Nodding, Elladan bit his bottom lip, acutely aware that his twin was not breathing properly, and that the little air his brother was taking into his lungs would not be enough to save him. What should they do? He could not lose his twin! Why was it always Elrohir who fell ill first, and not him? Why was this happening?

_/Dagnir…/_

The fear he felt for his twin, the nervousness and strain, suddenly turned into red-hot anger, and Elladan's face turned deadly white with it. His eyes hardened, and with a snarl he made as if to get to his feet to do Valar knew what to Dagnir.

Surely the madman knew how to cure Elrohir!

"Elladan!" The word was like a whiplash, and Elladan stopped in his movement as if he had been hit. Aragorn was gripping his wrist and was looking at him with such serene and steely eyes that for a moment Elladan knew not who was sitting in front of him.

But as quick as the metamorphosis had come, it vanished, and when Elladan blinked, all he saw was his human brother, who looked at him with urgency and determination in his eyes.

"Elladan, that won't help Ro. I need you now, do you hear me?"

Elladan nodded, and licked his lips. Elrohir's painful gasps sounded so loud in his ears, and he wished nothing more than to help his twin. Aragorn released his grip on Elladan's wrist, but his voice was still full of strength and command when he ordered,

"Legolas, go and get my pack. Elladan, talk to Ro, he needs to stay conscious."

With a whoosh Legolas was gone, and Elladan's voice filled the air. He spoke of nothing at all, his words only meant to soothe his brother and to connect him to the waking world. Elladan had no idea what Aragorn was planning, but as he had no ideas himself, he readily shifted the responsibility on Aragorn's shoulders. In this very moment, all that mattered was his twin, the other half of his self.

Legolas skidded to a halt beside the brothers and handed the worn pack to Aragorn. The man took it and hurriedly sifted through it, one eye always on Elrohir. The breathing of the younger twin had not stabilized, and it sounded more like a whistling than anything else.

As the throat was neither swollen nor blocked, the only explanation for the breathing problem had to sit with the lungs, and that was something that could not be healed by outward measures. Except,…

Aragorn sighed relieved when he found his leather satchel that contained his herbs.

_/Please let it still be there, please…/_

With cold fingers Aragorn opened the strings that held the satchel closed, and then shook the contents into his lap, not minding if the herbs scattered or got blown away, as long as he found what he was looking for. As a healer he had learned to keep a clear head in even the worst situations, but right now, he simply did not care.

Then, his grey eyes lightened on what he had been looking for: The leaves of a rare plant, long and of a deep green, the edges of the leaves slightly ripped, the underside silver.

Athelas!

His father had made him carry some leaves, although he rarely used them. The plant had no special healing abilities in most hands and was only used to cure headaches, and even that only seldom. But in Aragorn's hands…

Truth be told, only a few times he had used the ancient plant, and that had been in times of great need, as the danger to be found out was high. If there were other ways to treat a patient, he usually used those to save someone. But right now, it was his brother who needed his help, and he would save him if he could!

With slightly trembling fingers, he took two of the leaves and rubbed his thumb over the soft structure.

"Estel, what are you doing?" Legolas asked worriedly. He knew of course of the plant's possible potential, but so far he had never seen Aragorn use it.

Alerted by Legolas question, Elladan turned his head and looked at what his brother was holding in his hands. His eyebrow rose, but he said nothing. He could read in Aragorn's eyes that it was the only option they had, and if his brother thought that he could do that, then he would not argue with him.

Giving Legolas a quick glance, Aragorn lifted the leaves to his mouth and blew on them two times. Then he crushed the leaves in his hands, and immediately the sweet and fresh scent of the Athelas filled the air. It took away the tension and warmed all their hearts.

Giving Elrohir a small encouraging smile, Aragorn placed the crushed leaves in Elrohir's mouth, and then placed his injured right hand on Elrohir's brow, while he placed his other over his brother's chest.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on what he was about to do. To heal someone via this way was exhausting and difficult, but he was sure that he would connect with his brother quickly, and that Elorhir would aid him in his endeavour as well as he could.

It took a moment, but then the sounds of the forest and the river, of Legolas and Elladan and even Elrohir's fight to breathe faded into the background and then quieted completely. Silence descended on Aragorn, and all he heard was his own heartbeat and the rush of blood in his body.

He neither felt the grass he was sitting on, nor the wind that played with his hair, or the fire he was crouched near to. All he felt was nothingness, but that was what was supposed to happen, and it did not frighten him.

Then slowly, he became aware of another presence, and when he was sure it was Elrohir who he was feeling, he slowly began the strenuous process of trying to help his brother. It was difficult and tiresome, and more than once Aragorn felt his strength falter. But he did not give up, and after what seemed like hours, he felt his brother's breathing ease, and then adopt a regular, if strained, pattern once more.

Aragorn slowly withdrew and ended the healing trance he had been in. Cold sweat stood on his brow, and only now did he become aware of his body's trembling. He felt weak and wobbly, and suddenly so tired that he did not even realize how his body slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and reluctantly he opened his eyes. He was so tired…

"Estel? Estel!" Elladan and Legolas were both bending over him, but he could not see their faces sharply, as the colours blurred and shifted. He tried to tell them that all was well, that he had helped Elrohir, and that they should not worry. But before he could do any of this, his injured and exhausted body succumbed to its weakness, and he fell into a deep sleep.

--oOo--

"What he did was simply too much for his body, but he was not harmed and will be well once he wakes."

Elrohir rubbed his eyes tiredly. A few hours had passed since the attack of the poison, and although he could breathe again, his lungs and chest still hurt terribly. Every breath he took was a struggle, but he no longer had the feeling to suffocate. No, Aragorn had saved him, there was no doubt about that.

Legolas, who sat close to Aragorn, a hand placed protectively on his friend's chest, still looked very worried.

"Truly? I mean, never before have I seen him do that, and that he should faint worries me. Are you sure he will be well?"

"Aye, he will be, Legolas." Elladan reassured the elf, and smiled faintly as he watched Legolas arrange the blanket around his brother for the eights time in the last hour. Sighing deeply, Elladan gazed at his twin, and felt relieved to see Elrohir breathe normally again.

It had scared him halfway to Mandos to see his brother like that and be unable to do anything. Had it not been for Estel…

It seemed, his twin had the same thoughts, "Dan, Legolas, you know that the poison will strike again, don't you?"

They both nodded, but said nothing. After a moment, Elrohir said cautiously, "Dan, I think you will be next. You have to tell us when you start feeling something."

Nodding, Elladan unconsciously touched his throat, as if he could already feel the poison working its way through his body and into his lungs. Maybe it was already there…

Silence settled for a moment, but then Legolas asked in a whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer, "And then Estel will fall ill. And what are we supposed to do then? He cannot heal himself, can he?"

Alas, that was a question the twins had no answer for.

Tbc…

(1)No, you will not find these mushrooms in a real forest, or one of Tolkien's woods. I made them up.

(2) I let Elladan call Dagnir "tark", because a.) Dagnir "**is**" from Gondor, and b.) I did not want the elves to swear more than necessary and c.) no dwarf ever told me a dwarvish curse, so…;o)

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_Hi! I hope you like this new chapter. Alas, my great beta is on vacation the next two weeks. So, it is with you to decide to a.) wait or b.) read an unbetaed chapter next week. Let me know what you prefer._

**Then, I am a tiny little bit depressed with the responses I receive. Again, is the story becomming too boring or predictable? I am truly trying to give all the characters the same amount of attention (Legolas will get his share of angsty, painful moments soon "eg") and to find new things to write. So please, tell me what you think about this chapter/the story. THANK YOU! And happy easter days.**


	24. 23 Make it stop!

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N:** Hi! Chris was so nice to send me the chapter before she went on vacation, so you can read a betaed chapter this week, and next week then an unbetaed. I sent the review replies out yesterday, if I forgot someone, I am truly sorry.

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_"Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one."_

_(Jean-Paul Sartre)_

_

* * *

Elvish translations: _

Saes: Please

Chapter 23 "Make it stop"

He had to go faster! Morgwath knew that he needed to be faster if he wanted to reach the elves and the humans before they entered Rivendell, but his legs were tired and his arm, shoulder and side hurt from the injury he had received.

_/Damn that stupid elf/_

Cursing under his breath and nevertheless quickening his steps, he rushed through the forest, always hoping that he was fast enough…or that the group he was following would be delayed. Had Dagnir not told them all that the poison worked in stages, and that it would attack again? Perhaps, Morgwath thought darkly, I am lucky, and the poison strikes and therewith gives me the time I need.

He knew that should the group reach Rivendell, his chances of dealing with Dagnir were over. And he needed to take care of the man, he had vowed that he would kill the man, and he would not break it.

Once more, Morgwath asked himself why he had not simply killed the former Captain in Tharbad, or on their way to Bree or to the Misty Mountains. Aye, why had he not?

But he knew the answer, he had not killed the man because seeing the ranger in pain and agony was almost as much fun. And he had known that Dagnir would not go anywhere until the ranger was dead. So, why rush things when he could have had a bit of fun along the way?

Morgwath ducked under a low hanging branch and sped on. He had no time to waste…

--oOo--

The day passed slowly. Elrohir's breathing eased further, but his chest and lungs pained him still, although he claimed that he was well. He refused to drink from the pain reducing tea, saying that Aragorn would need it more than him once he woke up. But when Aragorn woke up in the late afternoon, he was in no more pain then before, and so Elladan forced Elrohir to at least take a small sip from the tea.

While Aragorn had been asleep, Legolas had cleaned away the preparations for the knee surgery. They all knew that with the poison attacking, there was no way to treat the injury now. Elrohir and Elladan were too shaken by the experience with the poison, and, furthermore, Aragorn would need his strength to help Elladan once the venom struck and to survive the assault himself.

Long had they talked about the best way of action. Leave for Imladris with all haste, or wait here? Both option had their merits, but as Aragorn had woken up very late in the afternoon, they had decided to at least wait this night, and then break camp in the morning and try to reach Imladris as fast as possible.

Now, as the sun set on the distant horizon, painting the low hanging clouds a greenish grey, they sat huddled by the fire, silent and waiting. For, what was there to do or say when one waited for the inevitable?

Now and then, Elrohir threw his brothers anxious glances, but he said nothing. He did not fear so much for Elladan, but his heart constricted painfully every time he looked at Aragorn. When the poison attacked, he knew he would not be able to stop Aragorn from helping Elladan, but what then?

Legolas was right, Aragorn could not treat himself. And none of them could handle the Athelas as he could. They had discussed this, of course, and in the end, Aragorn had decided to prepare the Athelas beforehand. The leaves would lose much of their healing potential that way, but they would probably be able to help him nevertheless.

And Elrohir and Elladan, although more fighters than healers, had been trained by their father in the healing arts, and the basics of how to call a person back, and how to soothe the spirit when in fear or pain. They simply had to try; there was nothing else that they could do.

Darkness settled over the camp, the fire glowed red and orange, and the river gurgled and murmured softly behind them. The birds fell silent, and in the forest woke the nightly creatures to prowl the area, but the group did not truly notice.

Waiting was almost more horrible than the attack itself. At least Legolas felt that way. Over and over he tried to find another solution for their predicament, something that they could do. But alas, he knew not what could help them.

Shifting his position slightly, he gazed at Elladan and then at Aragorn. Both were staring unseeing into the flames, their thoughts far away. Could Legolas blame them? No, of course not.

But, to his surprise, for the first time since he knew Aragorn, he felt out of place. The twins were his friends as well since many long years, and they, Aragorn and he had travelled wide and far, had survived this or that misadventure, had laughed and joked, fought and prayed together.

But now…He was the only one of them who was not poisoned, who did not feel the icy surge of fear claw at his heart. He knew that he would reach Imladris, that he would most likely go home again, and that he would see his father and friends in Mirkwood again.

The three brothers had always shared a strong bond, but never before had Legolas felt out of place. Not until now, that was. He did not even know why he felt that way, the twins or Aragorn had done nothing to rouse these feelings, but they were there, and he could not ignore them.

They hurt.

He wanted to do something, to help them, to act! Once more his blue eyes travelled over his companions, but none of them seemed to notice his unease. Elrohir was worried for his brothers, Elladan was worried for Aragorn, and Aragorn was afraid that he would not be able to help Elladan, due to his tired and exhausted state. No, they all had their own worries to nurture.

This could not go on! He had to do something, whatever it was. Legolas stood up, tightening his cloak around his shoulders. Elrohir lifted his head, gazing at him with questioning eyes, but Legolas only shook his head minutely and gave his friend a small smile.

Seeing that nothing was wrong, Elrohir let his head hang again and stared into the flames, almost immediately caught in his musings once more. With soft footsteps, Legolas made his way into the forest.

An idea had come to him, unbidden but welcomed, and he suddenly knew what he could do to help his friends. He was not completely useless, and although he could not heal them, he knew someone who probably could.

Legolas passed by the horses, patting the elvish horses and scratching his own horse behind the ears. The horses of the humans were well trained, but still had their herd instinct and followed the lead of the elvish horses without second thought. They did not truly heed the commands of the elves in every situation, but they were tame enough to follow them without problems.

Legolas's horse snorted softly and then nuzzled his shoulder; in the last days, Legolas had not been able to care for his horse himself, but either Elrohir or Elladan had taken care of the horses. Patting his horse on the neck and then scratching the long face, Legolas murmured some soothing words, fondling the ears of his steed, as he knew his horse liked that.

But his horse was not the reason he had come into the forest. With another pat and a parting word, he walked deeper into the forest. They had bound Dagnir to a huge old beech, some yards into the forest, but not so far as that he could attempt a flight.

With his keen elvish eyesight, Legolas could see the man before Dagnir saw him, and so he stopped some feet away in the shadow of a tree and observed the man for a moment. Dagnir was still gagged, although they had given him something to eat this day and some water.

Dagnir was pale, but not as pale as Aragorn. The wound in his leg had been treated, and according to Elladan it healed quickly and showed no sign of infection; Legolas was not sure whether he should be glad or sad because of that fact.

Right now, Dagnir seemed to be asleep, but even in the darkness Legolas could tell that the breathing pattern of the man was not that of sleep. Dagnir was awake, and from how it looked, he was listening intently. For what, Legolas did not know.

Had he known that the poison would strike today or some time now? Had…had he perhaps waited for something to happen and was now eagerly anticipating what was to come?

Anger crawled over Legolas's being, and his skin seemed to tingle with the sensation. With a face stony and beautiful, but terrible to behold in his anger, he approached Dagnir. The man did not hear him until he was practically standing right in front of him, but then he snapped his eyes open and lifted his head to look into Legolas's face.

And when Legolas saw his eyes, he knew that the man did indeed know that something was the matter. There was no fear in the red eyes, no pity, no uncertainty. No, instead, Legolas saw anticipation and glee, and to his disgust a bit of disappointment; no doubt because his fine venom was killing his victim, and he was not there to witness it.

Narrowing his eyes, Legolas kicked him softly, and then crossed his arms over his chest. Dagnir gazed up at him, and Legolas had no problem seeing the smile that the man formed behind the gag. The red eyes glimmered evilly, and Dagnir seemed to enjoy himself immensely, despite his status as prisoner.

A low snarl left Legolas lips, and with a grace inborn to the elves, he crouched down in front of Dagnir, his arms now resting on his knees and his hand dangling between them. For a moment longer he simply looked at the man, his eyes as cold as the Helcaraxe, and his temper as flared as a Balrog's flames. But he let his guard not down, and so all Dagnir saw was his cool and superior demeanour.

Then, very slowly, so that Dagnir knew that it was Legolas's decision and no one else's, he removed the gag. Dagnir took a deep breath and then spit to the ground; his tongue wet his lips,and he swallowed a few times before he focused completely on Legolas again.

"I was wondering when one of you came to talk to me." His tone was one of confidence, and it galled Legolas that this man felt that way.

So, he said nothing, but simply stared at Dagnir. As a prince, he had been attending his father's court from an early age and had learned to have patience. He knew how to handle subjects, and in his eyes Dagnir was in this very moment nothing more than a troublesome insect.

Legolas respected the Secondborn, but that depended on the human, their behaviour, and this human was not better than any average orc.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, none of them willing to be the first to look away, but it was Dagnir who first spoke, his eyes glimmering in the darkness,

"Did it take the ranger? Has it attacked him?" His voice sounded like that of a child on the Winter Solstice morning, and Dagnir could not hide his joy and eagerness, although he tried to.

Legolas took a deep breath and his voice was flat as he answered, "No, it did not."

Disappointment flickered through Dagnir's eyes, and he did nothing to hide it. He shook his head sadly and sighed deeply. "Oh, such a shame. But it will soon, it is just a matter of time."

For a moment Legolas was tempted to tell him his true reason why he had come, but Dagnir did not know that the twins were ill as well, and they had decided to not let him know. So, he shook his head and said calmly,

"Maybe, but he will survive the venom, and you will face your sentence."

"Ah, but there you are mistaken, elf. It will kill him, slowly and painfully. It will destroy his body and then his mind, and when he can take no more, he will pathetically plead for your mercy, so that you will free him of his misery."

Anger welled inside of Legolas, as well as sudden fear. Dagnir sounded too convinced of this, so sure…But, he said nothing, and instead only narrowed his eyes to encourage Dagnir via this way to tell him more. He had a feeling that the man "wanted" to tell him of the poison, of his own geniality.

And Legolas had been right in this assumption.

"Oh, come now, elf. You care for that piece of scum, I know that. You would have died for him three years ago, and had it not been for the ranger's stubbornness, you would be dead by now. You would have suffered like I have suffered down that cliff, and I would have killed you then. Oh, they would have come for you, I have no doubt, but all they would have found would have been your dead and decaying body."

Dagnir licked his lips and then took a deep breath. The gleam in his eyes had intensified, and Legolas could tell that this human was truly mad.

The man's voice was barely a whisper when he added, "The poison will kill him, make no mistake. And when he is dead, I will come and get you and your elf friends."

A chuckle escaped Dagnir's lips, and Legolas had to forcibly calm himself, so that he did nothing that he would regret later. Eying the bound human seriously, he asked,

"And how do you think you could do that, human? You are bound to a tree and have no weapons."

"I am not alone. Morgwath is still out there, and he does everything for money. And I pay him well. Very well. You will see, he will come and free me."

"I shot him."

"But you did not kill him."

"What not is can come to pass."

Dagnir only grinned, and Legolas felt irked that this human still felt no fear or at least worry. And, he thought wryly, perhaps he is even right. Well, he had not come to talk about the fourth human, but about the poison.

"This poison of yours will not kill him, for he is stronger than it, and we have the antidote."

It was a lie, a bluff, but Legolas wanted to see the man's reaction.

For a moment, Dagnir eyed him confused, almost…yes…scared, but then he broke into a barking laugh. His voice echoed from the trees, and Legolas winced inwardly at the sound.

"Oh, elf, this was a good bluff, but a bluff nevertheless. He will die, and there is nothing you could do to prevent that."

"What makes you think so? The Eldar are far wiser than the Secondborn, and we know more of nature than you."

Dagnir, still grinning, bent forwards as far as his bonds allowed and then whispered, so as if he would tell Legolas a secret, "You cannot have the antidote, for there is none. None at all. There never was, you see."

And then Dagnir leaned back against the tree and said no more. He grinned and snickered, but it was clear that he would say no more, and so Legolas glared at him and gagged him once more. Without a backward glance he made his way back to the camp, now not only feeling out of place, but scared and hopeless as well.

He could not know that Dagnir had lied about the antidote, and all that he had been able to read in the human's eyes had been that he said the truth. Maybe Dagnir had forgotten about the antidote, maybe he was a very good liar, whatever it was, Legolas suddenly felt the burden of mortality on his shoulders, and when he returned to his friends, he said nothing but gazed into the flames as they did.

--oOo--

A sigh escaped Elrond's lips, and he sat back heavily in his chair. Closing his eyes, he handed the letter he had read wordlessly to Glorfindel, who took it and read it quickly. Another sigh left Elrond's lips, and the he placed his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.

Just a few moments prior, a messenger bird had returned from Lothlorien, and with it the hopes of Elrond that a solution could be found to their problem. For, if not the Lady of the Golden Wood with her wisdom and power of foresight, who then could tell him what to do? Who else could help him?

But now…

Elrond heard Glorfindel's sigh, but his friend and advisor was not to be discouraged so easily,

"There is still hope, Elrond. Even if Galadriel cannot help us; that does not mean that there is no hope."

Without lifting his head, Elrond answered, "According to her letter, she has no idea what kind of poison we are dealing with, and not even her mirror has revealed to her anything that might help us. What kind of hope are you talking about, my friend? I have searched every book in this house, and consulted everyone I know that could help. I…I am at a loss of what to do."

"What about Mithrandir? Mayhap he finds something."

Elrond's tone was sarcastic when he murmured, "In the books of some village herbologist who lives in the middle of nowhere? No, I guess not."

"But it is possible, Elrond, do not give up hope so quickly."

Lifting his head, Elrond gazed at his friend tiredly, "I will never give up hope, never. But all I see in the future is darkness and pain. There is no light and no life. I see the world drown in blackness, and fear and uncertainty descend upon us all."

Leaning closer and gripping Elrond's hand in a rare show of friendship, Glorfindel looked deep into his friend's eyes and said serenely, "But that does not mean that the darkness will last. Let the fear and the uncertainty come, and we will fight it and bring the light and hope back to the world."

And with a wry grin he added, "The odds have never stopped us before, Elrond. We will prevail, you'll see."

Smiling weakly, Elrond nodded, and then gazed out into the night, his thoughts far away.

_/Oh, I hope you are right, my friend. I dearly hope so./_

--oOo--

The attack of the poison came swift and strong. From one moment to the other Elladan felt a searing pain in his chest, and his lungs seemed to lose the air they had been holding. His chest felt as if it was being squeezed together by a giant's hands, and his breath left him.

Chocking, he grasped at his chest in a vain attempt to breathe, but no air entered his lungs, and within moments cold sweat appeared on his brow, and his hands began to tingle and shake with tremors.

Dimly he was aware that his brothers and Legolas called his name and then placed him on the ground on his back. Only then did he notice that he had closed his eyes in his anguish, and with great struggle he opened them. The sky span vast above him, and he could see the tiny stars peek from between the clouds. But alas, this time the stars did not soothe him, but he feared now more than ever that he would never see them again.

A cold steel grip clamped around his chest, and his whole body began to writhe on the ground. Valar, he needed to breathe! He needed air!

_/Help me! Please, help me/_

For a short moment Elladan wondered how Elrohir must have felt when he was the first to fall prey to this stage of the poison, and the thought slightly decreased his fear and worry. After all, he already knew what would happen, and that Aragorn might save him.

_/Estel! Please, hurry. Please, I cannot breathe! I am dying/_

Then, he felt someone place something into his mouth and the next moment the hand of his foster brother on his brow. In that moment, he could not help but think that his brother should hurry, that he needed his help and that he wanted nothing more than the attack to end. In that very moment of pure fear, he did not even think of the risks that Aragorn was facing by trying to help him.

Elladan closed his mouth and felt the Athelas leaves on his tongue, and immediately he noticed the warmth that spread through his body, and the coldness that had gripped his chest left him.

And then, he felt Aragorn's other hand on his chest, over his lungs. At first, nothing happened, and black fear crawled down his back and made him shudder. Spots began to dance in front of his eyes, and he felt suddenly light as a feather and at the same time heavy as lead and immensely tired.

_/Hurry, Estel. Please/_

Long moments passed and nothing changed, but then he suddenly felt warmth fill his chest and lungs, and although the pain in them was still there, he was able to breathe once more.

He gulped and coughed, and writhed and hacked for many minutes, but then he was able to calm his breathing, and drew deep gulps of the fresh nightly air.

Valar, never had breathing felt that good! Simply to breathe in and out, in and out again…

Still more wheezing than truly breathing, he became aware of someone patting his back, and then the soothing voice of Elrohir reached his ears,

"Easy, Dan. It will pass, it will pass. Take deep intakes of breath; that should help. Easy, brother."

He can say that easily, Elladan thought wryly, it is not 'he' who is wheezing like a broken trumpet. But in the next second he remembered that his brother indeed knew what he was talking about, and through the little guilt he felt at inwardly admonishing his brother, Elladan heeded the suggestion and tried to take even deeper breaths.

A few long moments later, he was finally able to breathe relatively normal again, and also his heartbeat returned to its normal level. Nodding his head in thanks and giving Elrohir a small smile, Elladan sat up, rubbing his still hurting chest.

He turned his head, and his smile vanished as quickly from his face as honey cakes in the presence of Hobbits. His face paled even more, and a violent jolt of dread surged through his stomach.

_/Oh please, no. Estel…/_

There, only some yardsin front of him, sat Legolas, and in his arms he held the unconscious form of his human brother. Legolas stroked the sickly greyish cheeks lightly, murmuring soothing words of strength and encouragement, now and then wiping some strands of dark hair away from his brow.

_/Is he, is he…/_

Gulping and inwardly shaking his head in denial, Elladan turned huge eyes on his twin, pleading him wordlessly to tell him that Estel was not…

Elrohir placed a hand on Elladan's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, accompanied by the ghost of a smile,

"He will be well, give him time."

"What happened? Estel looks so…so," for lack of a better word, he concluded with, "…so fragile."

Elrohir sighed and wrapped a cloak around Elladan's shoulders. Maybe the initial attack had passed, but Elrohir knew from his own experience that the body needed a bit longer to return to normality after the attack. Elladan would be aching and cold for some time yet, and despite his worry for Aragorn, Elrohir did not want his twin to feel uncomfortable.

_/He feels guilty enough as it is./_

With a forced calm voice, for Elrohir was as worried about Aragorn as was Elladan, the younger twin said softly, "He barely had healed you when he collapsed. His face turned ashen and then grey, and he has not stirred yet. I think he will not wake for many hours, but once he does he should be well. You will see brother, Estel will be fine."

To Elladan, these words sounded as if Elrohir wanted not only to convince him, but needed to hear the words to believe them himself.

_/Why have I let him do that? Why is it always Estel who has to suffer such? It is not fair/_

"It is simply not fair!"

Not having realized that he had spoken the last words aloud, Elladan started slightly when his brother answered in a whisper,

"It never was, Elladan. And it never will be."

And with that, Elrohir helped his brother to his feet, and together with Legolas they placed Aragorn near the fire to keep him warm, and then they settled down in silence to watch over him.

The fire flickered merrily, chasing away some of the darkness and the cold, but when the night progressed and the mist crawled onto the land from the river, they all felt as if death itself was already among them, reaching out its thin fingers towards Aragorn to take him away to a place where they would not be able to follow.

--oOo--

The night passed, and the morning dawned cold and chilly; the white frost glittered on fallen leaves and shimmered in tiny spider webs. The animals only hesitatingly left their warm shelters, and although the sun shone from a cloudless sky, the rays did not warm the earth.

Winter had finally reached the lands, and with it the freezing cold of ice and snow. The nights became colder and longer, and soon the days would be as cold as the nights were. This day would be cold, Legolas had no doubt about that, and when he stoked the fire that they had kept during the night, he could not suppress a shudder of unease.

His gaze found the sleeping figure of Aragorn, wrapped in most of the blankets they had and in his cloak, but still Legolas wondered whether his friend was warm enough. Aragorn had yet to wake, and slowly Legolas was starting to feel nervous.

Why had his friend not yet woken? He had not been unconscious that long when he had healed Elrohir, had he? So, why was he not waking up? Had he used up too much of his strength? Or was something else the matter?

Suddenly, a horrible thought gripped the fair elf, and in a near panic he rushed over to the motionless form of his friend and removed the blankets from his chest.

What if the poison had attacked while Aragorn had been unconscious? What if Aragorn had died during the night and they had not even noticed?

With trembling fingers Legolas reached for the man's neck and pressed his fingers against the skin. With held breath he waited, and when he felt the pulse of his friend under his fingers, he sighed deeply with relief and closed his eyes to send a quick prayer to Eru, thanking him for this small gift.

Of course, they had checked Aragorn during the night, but one could never be too certain about such things. Replacing the blankets around his friend, and shooting a quick look at the sleeping twins, Legolas startled when he became aware of two grey orbs watching him.

"Estel! Valar, you scared me halfway to Mandos!" And then he leaned closer and asked gently, worry evident in his voice, "How do you feel, mellon nin?"

Aragorn eyed him somewhat groggily, and then tried to lift his uninjured hand to rub at his eyes, only to find that Legolas had wrapped him so tightly in the blankets that he could not move.

With his voice rough from sleep and exhaustion, he mumbled, "Too tight, Legolas."

Immediately, fear entered Legolas's blue eyes, and he yelled at the sleeping twins, "Dan, Ro, wake up! Wake up!"

Elladan and Elrohir shot up , instantly alert, and when they saw that Legolas was kneeling beside their brother, his face expressing worry and fear, they scrambled to their feet and rushed over.

Elrohir cupped Aragorn's face in his hands, all the time mumbling encouraging words, while Elladan reached for the Athelas leaves that Aragorn had prepared the day before. Nearly frantic with worry, Legolas looked left and right, wishing to do something, but not knowing how to help. Elrohir was blocking his way to his friend, and so he got up and crouched down on the other side of the man, so that he could see his face and talk to him.

Elrohir rolled Aragorn onto his back and was already trying to descent into a healing trace.

Aragorn blinked, blinked again, and for a moment he simply stared at what was going on around him. Sleep only left him slowly, and a tiny voice inside his head started to tell him that his brothers and friend had now completely lost it.

Or, had he caused his brothers to go crazy, because his healing had failed and he had somehow 'damaged' them? Well, that was an explanation, but that was not explaining why Legolas was currently stroking his brow and pleading with him to stay and see the light.

_/Something is not right here…./_

And then it hit him like a dwarf's axe! The last remnants of sleep faded, and the words he had spoken to Legolas flittered across his mind.

_/You idiot! You dim-witted, retarded troll! How could you say that to Legolas? Of course he must think you feel the poison/_

Realizing his unconscious blunder, Aragorn began to shake his head to indicate that he was well, but apparently his brothers and Legolas took that as a sign that he was 'not' well, and Elrohir placed his hand on his brow, trying to keep him still.

Had the situation not been so serious, Aragorn would have found that all rather funny, and somehow he 'was' a bit amused…but not enough to not feel guilty for worrying his companions so.

Taking a deep breath, he looked directly at Legolas –and said, "Legolas, no. You misunderstood…"

"Estel, do not speak, save your breath, you will need it, you…" And then Legolas frowned, gazed at him for a moment, and then opened his mouth as if to say something. The next moment, he snapped it shut like a fish on land and then reached for Elrohir's arm.

The younger twin snapped his eyes open and gazed furiously at Legolas, the reproach already on his lips. In that moment, Elladan flopped down beside them, the Athelas in hand. He was just ready to shove it down his human brother's throat, when he saw Aragorn's guilty and slightly ashamed face.

Frowning, Elladan made as if to say something, but Legolas beat him to it, having finally found his voice,

"Estel, how could you? I thought you were suffocating!"

But despite the anger that swung in the voice, relief was the most prominent emotion. Aragorn opened his mouth to apologize when Elrohir asked confused, "He is not suffocating? Legolas! Never, ever scare me thus again!"

Elladan glared at Legolas and muttered quite audibly, "Wood-elves!"

Now truly feeling slightly angry, Legolas pointed at Aragorn, "I asked him how he felt, and he said 'too tight'. I assumed he was too tight in his lungs or something, what would you have done?"

Elladan and Elrohir stared at him for a second, and then directed their gaze at Aragorn, only to find their brother peek sheepishly up at them.

"Well, Estel," Elrohir asked irritated, "what would we have done?"

Swallowing, and ignoring the tiny voice inside his head that told him that things could only go worse from here on, Aragorn said sheepishly, "Uhm…loosened the covers a bit, so that I can move?"

Three millennia old elves stared down at Aragorn for a moment, and then Elladan muttered exasperatedly, "Humans!"

When the upset tempers settled, the elves freed Aragorn from the many blankets and then they settled down near the fire to break their fast. Legolas had actually gone to the old willow that stood on the other side of the river and had collected some of the Thunder-Caps and Whistle-Heads.

After brushing the sand from the mushrooms, they wrapped them in some leaves and roasted them in the coals of their fire, together with thyme and rosemary. The hearty scent of the mushrooms, mixed with the smell of roasted bread and fresh water revived them somewhat, and even Aragorn felt a bit hungry, eating his meal with pleasure.

Once they had eaten their meal and packed away their belongings, Elladan asked what they had all been thinking, "And now? What do we do? Stay or leave?"

Glancing at the sky and the brilliantly shining sun, Elrohir suggested, "Well, I think we would make good progress today, at least some leagues. The ground is frozen and thus the horses should have no problems. On the other hand…"

He shot a quick worried look at Aragorn, but the ranger only sighed and smiled back weakly. "I know what you try so hard not to say Ro, but there is no way knowing when the poison will strike, and in what manner. I think we should head out today and try to cover as much ground as possible."

"Do you think the venom will affect you differently than your brothers, Estel?" Legolas tugged a strand of blonde hair behind his ear and stared across the fire at his pale friend.

Not for the first time that morning, Legolas noted how pale his friend was, although he had slept the whole night. 'That is because he has five broken ribs, a burnt hand, countless cuts, scratches and bruises, a hurt knee and an arrow wound, not to mention an evil poison that could kill him while he sits there' a tiny voice provided helpfully, and Legolas resisted the urge to scoot closer to Aragorn to make sure that his friend was really all right. Or, as 'all right' as he could be, with broken ribs, a burnt hand and all the other injuries.

So occupied was he with his own musings that he nearly missed Aragorn's answer.

"It is possible, Legolas. The first time the poison attacked, Dan and Ro felt sick to the stomach and had to throw up…"

"Thanks for reminding me, little brother," Elrohir said sarcastically, a suffering smile on his face.

"You're welcome, ancient one." Aragorn gave him a small smile in return and then continued seriously, "I, on the other hand, did not feel queasy to my stomach, and I did not feel the urge to throw up either."

Only now did Aragorn realize that indeed, the venom seemed to affect him differently than his brothers, at least sometimes. The second time the poison had acted their reactions had been quite similar.

But, he mused dryly, being paralysed is a state in which the body just _cannot_ act differently. Either you are paralysed, or you are not.

Frowning at his brother's words, Elladan asked curiously, his eyes never leaving Aragorn's face, also noting the paleness of the skin and the dark circles under the eyes.

"Estel, what did the poison do to you then? I thought you said it affected your stomach."

"Well, it did, but…in a rather different way then it affected you and Ro."

'Stupid, Estel, really really stupid,' a voice told him. 'Now your brother's will only worry even more.

_/Oh, shut up/_

Aragorn sighed, and then grimaced slightly when he saw the raised eyebrows of his brothers and friend. His uninjured hand fiddled unconsciously with the hem of his cloak, and when the fabric was rather unyielding to his fingers, he moved over to pick at the grass stems.

_/Aye, they will not be pleased to hear this./_

"Well, Estel?" Elrohir said, sounding almost like the Lord of Imladris, and Aragorn sighed inwardly.

_/Not good…./_

Sensing that Legolas scooted closer to him, and seeing that his friend eyed him with eyes full of worry, he relented and accepted his fate.

_/Not good at all…/_

"The poison affected my stomach, but I did not feel sick. It just… hurt."

_/Ha! That will convince them that it was not bad. Wonderfully done, Dunadan/_

Predictably, the twins' faces darkened and Legolas drew in the air sharply, his hands balling into fists where they rested on his thighs. This was new to them all, and as it seemed, they took it as badly as Aragorn had imagined they would. If the elves wanted to be, they could be rather…furious.

Waving his hands through the air as if to make little of it, Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, suppressing the small moan of pain that tried to escape him when the movement hurt his injured shoulder.

"It was not that bad, truly. It just hurt, and then in the morning, the pain was gone and I felt well again. And nothing happened in that night, so, please, do not worry."

Elladan's face darkened even more, and a tiny vein started to throb under his eye, while Elrohir ground his teeth so strongly that Aragorn feared he would shatter his teeth. And Legolas, well to say that he took this information easy was as if to say that Sauron himself loved the sun and the light.

It was when his eldest brother got to his feet, death and murder in his eyes, that Aragorn realized that he had made two mistakes. First, he had unconsciously stated that the attack had lasted the whole night, for he had already told his companions earlier that the attack had happened after he had settled down for the night. And second, he had forgotten that he could not lie to his brothers and Legolas, try as he might, and that he had done so just stated that the poison had indeed hurt, and so much so that he saw it necessary to lie to them.

_/Uh oh…/_

"I will kill him! To Mordor with him!" Elladan snarled and stalked away in the direction the bound Dagnir had been left.

"Get in line, Dan," Elrohir stated grimly, following his brother on the heel.

"Dan, Ro! Please, get back here, brothers. Dan! Ro! Damn it…" Aragorn tried to get to his feet, but the sudden movement made his vision go hazy, and he flopped to the ground again, his face turning so white that he resembled more the white simbelmyne that grew in Rohan than anything else.

"Estel!" Legolas, seeing his friend's plight, rushed towards him, gently helping him to sit up, and steadying him while Aragorn tried to stop the busy swarm of bees from moving around in his head any further.

A shiver raced down Aragorn's back, then another and another, and suddenly he felt his chest constrict in horrible pain. He clenched his eyes shut, but it did not help to stop the liquid fire that consumed his lungs, or the terrible pain that engulfed his whole body.

Between gasps for air, he grabbed Legolas's hand weakly. "L-Legolas, the…p-poison." And then, his whole world exploded into red hot fire and pure agony, making him wish that the poison had already killed him on that very first night.

Valar, he could not breathe, he could not move, he could not…think clearly. Pain, that was all he felt and with every second that passed, he hoped and pleaded for someone to stop this. No matter how, no matter what the consequences where…all he wanted was for it to stop. And so caught up in his pain he was that he never even realized that he actually asked Legolas just that, his words interrupted by his gasping breaths.

"M-make it s-stop, m-make it stop, L-Legolas, s-saes…saes…"

Tbc…

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**So, another chapter? Please, be so kind and let met know what you think. All your wonderful reviews last time were soooo encouraging. Thank you:-)**


	25. 24 Revenge is best served ice cold

**Warning: Not beta-ed! All mistakes are mine, and I am truly sorry if there are too many. Please remember that English is not my native tongue.**

**A/N:** _I know I said I'd post thursday or friday, but I was not able to log in. Sorry for that. But that does not mean that I will foregoe my weekly post. Next chapter will be up nextthurday or friday. No replies this week, I am sorry, but I have a test next week and I really have no time.

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__Elvish translations:_

Baw: Stop that!

caeleb-ûn: Sick-creature

gweston: I promise!

lasto beth nin, gwanur: Listen to me, brother (by blood) yes, yes, I know they are only very distantly related through Elros, but I just do not like it if the twins call Aragorn muindor or gwadur

mellon nin: My friend

saes: Please

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"_We must remember that one determined person can make a significant difference, and that a small group of determined people can change the course of history."_

_(Sonia Johnson)

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Chapter 24: Revenge is best served ice cold

…"_M-make it s-stop, m-make it stop, L-Legolas, s-saes…saes…"…_

"Estel? Estel, please!" Legolas watched with frightened eyes how his friend struggled for breath; Aragorn's arms were wrapped tightly around his upper body, knees drawn to his chest, his whole body shivering and trembling. Aragorn writhed on the ground, curled into a tight ball, and his pain was etched so deeply into his features that it made Legolas's heart beat wildly in fear and fury.

Fury, because in this very moment he wanted to do nothing else than grab Dagnir and strangle him with his bare hands, and fear, because he could see that the poison was affecting Aragorn differently than his brothers, perhaps due to his thicker mortal blood. Elladan and Elrohir were only to a small part human and had also stronger elvish and a bit of Maia blood…

Wishing to help his friend, Legolas buried these thoughts in the back of his mind for the moment, and bent over his friend, trying to somehow help him. While he was busy rolling Aragorn onto his back to at least try to ease his breathing –although he knew that it would not help in the slightest- the twins kneeled down next to them, having heard the commotion.

"Estel, brother can you hear me?" Elladan placed his hand on Aragorn's pale cheek, but the man was not reacting to the touch. Aragorn moaned and gasped, his lungs obviously not working as they should; he still had his arms wrapped protectively around his body, and he was shaking and shivering from head to foot.

"Estel, lasto beth nin, gwanur. Estel seas, lasto beth nin. All will be well, gweston, gweston!" The older twin looked nearly as white as his human brother, and his voice was so soft that even Legolas had problems to understand the words.

Just as Legolas was wondering how Elladan could promise his dying brother something that he could not control, Elrohir reached out and opened Aragorn's mouth, shoving the prepared Athelas leaves into it.

Together, the three elves tried their best to hold the writhing ranger as still as possible, so that the leaves could take effect and Aragorn would not hurt himself, but the man did not quieten down; his movements grew more desperate, sweat appeared on his brow and his breath was now so raspy and quickened that they all feared he would pass out or suffocate.

But Aragorn was far from that. The red hot agony that engulfed his entire being was not lessening, on the contrary, after a few seconds Aragorn could have sworn that a Balrog had settled in his chest, and was now busy flapping his burning wings against his lungs from the inside, using his fiery whip to underline his movements.

There existed nothing but pain; he neither was aware that he had pleaded with Legolas to make it stop, nor that his brothers were trying to help him, or that Elrohir had given him the Athelas. No, he only felt as if the fire slowly spread from his lungs to the rest of his body, as if his blood had been turned into liquid lava, burning his skin from the inside out, leaving only a smouldering shell once it was done.

/Please, please, make it stop. Someone, anyone. I cannot bear this, make it stop, oh Eru , make it stop…/

And then, as if the poison had heard his pleas and was now only too willing to show him that Eru and all the Valar had left him to suffer, a wave of such an intense, sharp edged pain rolled over him, that nearly all his muscles cramped at the same time, and his lungs released the air they had still held in a loud, blood curling scream of pure agony.

Legolas had to watch with mounting fright how the body of his best friend suddenly stiffened grotesquely, the muscles in his back, arms and legs hardening to the point of being solid as rock, his back arching with the spasm, only to then hear the most gut wrenching and pain filled scream of agony that he had ever heard, or would hear, in his life.

Tears stung his eyes, and he wished nothing more than for the man to fall unconscious, so that he would not have to go through this, but he knew at the same time that unconsciousness could be even worse than the pain.

_/He could never wake, he could fall into the shadow…/_

While he held his friend down, trying not to hurt him even more, what was simply impossible, Elladan and Elrohir were frantic with worry. Their faces showed their inner turmoil, and they spoke to their brother ceaselessly, trying to calm him with their voices.

It did not help, and with every minute that passed, Aragorn grew paler, his skin colder and his movements jerkier. To Legolas it looked as if he was slowly losing the control over his limbs. His legs kicked out from time to time, his arms shook and trembled and his entire body either trembled or stiffened with cramps.

_/He cannot go on like this, this will kill him…we have to stop this/_

Just then, Aragorn gave another blood chilling scream of pure pain, and then buried his face into the grass, as if that could help him to deal with the pain. He shook and choked, and then his lips slowly turned a light shade of blue.

Without thinking, Legolas took his friend's sweaty face into his hands, his voice serious, "Estel, listen to me! This will not best you! Fight it, mellon nin!"

Aragorn groaned in pain, and his head jerked in Legolas's hands when the muscles in Aragorn's neck strained to the point where Legolas feared his neck would simply snap. Another groan escaped Aragorn's lips, and his lips turned even bluer.

_/He does get enough air. Why is the Athelas not helping? Damn it, Estel please…"_

It seemed, the twins had come to the same conclusion. Elladan placed his own hands over Legolas's, and Elrohir placed his hands over Aragorn's chest and closed his eyes, trying to sink into a healing trance.

They had to help Aragorn, lest they wanted to lose him, and that was definitely nothing they could live with. A few moments later, Elrohir went still and pale, while Elladan concentrated all his thoughts and energy on his human brother as well.

Legolas watched with a pounding heart how the twins went even paler than they already were, sweat appearing on Elrohir's brow as well, but Aragorn kept writhing on the ground, gasping and shivering. His lips had not changed colour and were still slightly blue. And to his horror, while Legolas watched his friend's face, they became even a shade of deeper blue, a colour Legolas had not even known lips could show.

Leaning closer, he concentrated as well, and spoke pleadingly with his best friend, "Estel, mellon nin, please. Fight it, you can do it. I do not want to lose you, you stubborn human. Come now, my friend, you can do this, Estel. Please, please my friend…"

Pain, that was all he felt, and Aragorn wished for it to stop. Nothing else, just that it stopped and that he could breathe again, without the Balrog whipping his lungs or the troll sitting on his chest.

But nothing changed, and so he did the only thing that his pain meddled mind could think of: he gave in to the pain. Instead of fighting the waves of agony that rolled over him and swimming against them, he stopped struggling and let himself swim with the fiery current, to and end unknown.

Almost instantly, the pain lessened, and his agonized mind was blessed with gracious darkness. But in the same moment, Aragorn had the scary feeling that this was not the kind of blackness that would do him much good; and then, he felt nothing at all anymore and his body went limp in his brothers' and Legolas's arms.

"Estel? No, no, don't do this to me…Estel!" Legolas felt his heart plummet into his stomach when his friend suddenly went limp in his arms. His whole body stopped trembling and shivering, the muscles relaxed and his raspy breathing stopped…

His breathing stopped…

"Estel! No! Don't do this!" Fighting his rising panic, Legolas grabbed his friend's shoulder and began to shake Aragorn frantically, willing him to resume breathing, to continue living. He fought the tears that threatened to spill, and anger replaced his fear.

"Estel! You stubborn human, stop that!"

Legolas voice was loud and angry, and for a moment Elladan watched Legolas shake his limp brother, Aragorn's head lolling from side to side. And then, something snapped inside of him, and before he knew what he was doing, Elladan grabbed Legolas by the shoulders and shoved him to the ground and away from Aragorn.

Elrohir, having opened his eyes when Aragorn had gone limp under his hands, watched his twin for a mere moment, and then pressed his ear against Aragorn's chest, checking if his brother's heart was still beating.

To his utter relief, the heart was still beating –quickly and erratically- but beating nevertheless. Ignoring Legolas and Elladan, he once more pressed his hands on Aragorn's chest, wishing to reach the healing trance and bring his brother back.

Legolas, stunned for a moment, gazed up at Elladan's seething face, not comprehending what the twin was doing, or why he had done it. And then he saw the tears that ran freely down Elladan's cheeks, and the unsteady flickering in the older twin's eyes.

Elladan was near to his breaking point, and seeing his foster brother struggle with the poison, the ordeal he himself had underwent and the fear he had for his twin, it all resulted in Elladan fighting everybody who laid hand on Aragorn, and in that very moment that was Legolas.

Legolas gulped, his eyes flickering to Elrohir and his fight to reach the trance, and then back to the agitated Elladan.

"Dan, I want to help him. He needs me. Elladan, please, we have to help him…together. I am not hurting him."

For a moment it seemed as if the elder twin had not even heard his words, but then Elladan took an unsteady breath and nodded curtly. In the next instant, Elladan turned towards the limp form of his brother, and Legolas scrambled back to his knees and resumed his position.

If this little fight with Elladan had served for something, then to clear Legolas's frantic mind; his panic was still there and the fear as well, but now he could once again think clearly and direct his thoughts onto the roads he wanted them to go.

/All right, think Legolas, think. He is suffocating, he cannot breathe. What can you do? The Athelas does not work, so you have to try something else. Think, elf, think/

He looked down at his friend, and when he beheld Aragorn's face, he was shocked to see the paleness of the skin and the blue lips.

/He looks already dead. As if he is already on his way to Namo…No! Don't you dare think that, Legolas! HE WILL NOT DIE/

And with that, Legolas pressed his hands on Aragorn's chest, ignoring that Elrohir was still trying to sink into the trance or that Elladan was currently stroking Aragorn's sweaty hair from his forehead and soothing him with elvish words, willing him to come back.

"Breathe!"

Legolas pushed down hard, using more strength than he would have used normally, but he did not notice that. Aragorn jerked under his push, his head lolling from side to side, but nothing else happened.

"Breathe, Estel!"

And again, Legolas pushed down on the chest, two hands under the breastbone, willing his friend to resume breathing. But again, nothing happened other than Aragorn's body jerking under his touch, and his head tilting from right to left.

Two more times Legolas pushed down, not even thinking of the ranger's broken ribs or the possibility that he could break one or two ribs himself. For, what was a broken rib other than a nuisance, when Aragorn could die?

But still, Aragorn did not resume breathing on his own, and when Elrohir placed two shaking fingers under his brother's chin to feel for a pulse, Legolas could tell that there was no time left.

Anger flashed brightly in his eyes; anger at Dagnir, anger at the other men, anger at the one who had made the venom, anger at Aragorn that he was simply giving up like this, but most of all angry at himself because he was not able to help his friend.

With one last strong push, Legolas let go of his anger, his voice yelling, "Damn Estel, start fighting! NOW!"

And Aragorn…coughed! The body under Legolas's hands jerked and then Aragorn arched his back slightly and began to cough hoarsely.

Legolas was so surprised that he toppled backwards, hitting the grass rather hard, staring disbelievingly at his coughing friend. He felt nothing at first, but then his surprise was soon replaced by relief and then…joy. Pure heart lifting joy.

The twins overcame their initial shock faster; Elladan rolled his brother onto his side, rubbing his back in soothing circles, while Elrohir began to massage his muscles, which were now tense and cramped again, as if Aragorn's body had simply resumed functioning at the point where it had stopped.

With relief Legolas noted that the lips lost their blue tint, and after long moments the coughing stopped, to be replaced by raspy breathing. Despite his coughs, Aragorn had not woken up, and although this unsettled them all, Legolas could not help but feel grateful for that.

If the twins had felt that bad and achy after their _'little'_ attacks, then how must Aragorn feel? And Legolas knew from own experience that a cramp in, say, a leg, hurt horribly, up to the point where you did not get enough air and vowed to never move your leg again. Then, how must it hurt when the whole _'body'_ cramped?

Shaking his head slightly, Legolas watched how Elladan continued to rub Aragorn's back in soothing circles, all the time talking to him reassuringly; Elrohir massaged the arms and legs, helping the blood to circulate and to relax the hard muscles.

With the twins so focused on helping their brother, and their voices trying to sooth and encourage him at the same time, it was Legolas who first heard the faint sound coming from the woods.

Tilting his head to the side, his hand automatically going to the knives he carried, Legolas strained his ears to listen. It was difficult at first to refocus his attention away from his ailing friend to his surroundings, but as a warrior he knew that even in the gravest of situations, there could come additional danger from outside, if one was not paying attention.

A quick look at the brothers told him that Aragorn was in no more immediate danger and that the twins had all under control. Aragorn would not die, not yet, and so Legolas listened more intently.

There it was again…it sounded harsh and at the same time high and barking and…it was no animal. It could not be.

_/What in the name of Manwe is that/_

And then the wind changed direction, as if Manwe had heard his plea, and with it it carried the sound; and in that moment Legolas knew what the sound was.

His face lost all colour, and such a fierce rage boiled inside of him that he did not even think about what he was doing. Instincts took over, and the rational part of his mind did nothing to stop him either. With a guttural snarl he jumped to his feet, ignored the questions of the twins, and sped into the forest.

_/How dare Dagnir laugh at my friend's pain/_

Within moments his swift feet carried him to the bound human, and what he saw made his blood run ice cold. Dagnir, bound to the tree, had his head tilted backwards, and was shaking with laughter, the gag in his mouth not enough to completely muffle the roaring laughs. His whole body was shaking with the effort to laugh and at the same time draw in enough breath through the cloth, and the eyes sparkled with glee and joy.

A snarl escaped Legolas lips, and before he could stop himself, he stepped up to Dagnir and wrapped his hand around Dagnir's neck in a vice like grip. The laughing stopped as the man's air supply was cut off, but Legolas did not notice that.

With hate and fury in his deep blue eyes, he asked icily, his voice barely above a whisper, "How dare you? How dare you laugh at his pain?"

When Dagnir did nothing but stare at him with wide, crazy eyes that showed his glee, Legolas tightened his grip a little, and then snarled, "I should kill you here and now, filth, for you do not deserve our mercy."

And with that, he reached behind and in one fluid motion drew one of his white handled twin knives.

_/Indeed he does not! Curse this man and his crazy mind/_

Legolas gripped the knife tightly, and then placed it against Dagnir's neck, the sharp blade so close that it drew a little blood. With more satisfaction than he should have rightly felt, Legolas saw the happiness in the man's eyes change to uncertainty, and then fear.

_/Good, shall he fear me! He should fear me, for I will not rest ere he is dead/_

Pressing the knife a little harder against the soft flesh of the man, Legolas leaned closer, his face now only inches from Dagnir's. Legolas eyes glimmered in a strange light, and Dagnir paled visibly.

_/Good…/_

Smiling sweetly, the smile never reaching his eyes, Legolas informed him, "Ai, I fear the death by a blade is much too quick and clean for the likes of you, caeleb-ûn. Perhaps I should do to you what you have done to Estel, but elvish-style. Without being numb to pain."

Grinning, Legolas released his grip on Dagnir enough so that the man was once more able to breathe, but his knife still rested against the neck, and Dagnir did not so much as move a muscle. A shimmer of uncertainty was still in his eyes, but the fear was slowly receding, much to Legolas's anger.

/He knows we cannot kill him. What he does not believe is that we can wouldt him. I will show him fear/

Without warning, Legolas drew his knife away from the man's neck, and in the same moment slammed his balled fist into Dagnir's face. The head snapped to the side, a surprised groan coming from the man.

But it did not sooth Legolas and only served to anger him further, and so he again and again hit the bound man, his fury overriding his common sense, until suddenly two strong arms caught his own and pulled him away from the panting human.

Furious, and not comprehending what was happening, Legolas yelled loudly, "Baw! Let me go!"

The arms pulled him back even further, and then they both toppled to the ground, Legolas falling on the person who had stopped him from hurting Dagnir.

"Let me go! He does not deserve to live! Let me go!"

Legolas struggled, his eyes shining murderously, and his feet kicking the ground in his attempts to rise and get back to Dagnir.

"Legolas, lasto! Baw!"

Somewhere in his furious mind Legolas recognized the voice of Elladan, but that did not stop him from struggling.

"Dan, let go of me!"

"No, Legolas. Look at him, he has had enough. Stop it."

That did stop Legolas - for a moment. He stopped his struggling with the older twin long enough to take in the panting form of Dagnir, the blood that trickled down from the split lip and the cut above his right eye, and to see the beginning of colourful bruises on the man's cheek.

But then, the harsh laughter of the man filled Legolas's mind, and the painful screams of his sworn brother, and the red haze that had lain itself over Legolas's mind intensified. With a guttural yell he resumed his struggling.

"He is still alive! Let me go, Elladan. I will end this here and now!"

"No, you will not, my friend." Elladan said calmly, almost with regret, and the next thing Legolas felt was a fist that connected heavily with his right temple, sending him into black oblivion.

--oOo--

Legolas was not quite sure what it was that woke him: the myriad of ants in his head that were busy gnawing at his skull with their tiny pinchers, or the soft voices that penetrated the haze he was caught in.

Whatever it was, he only slowly made his way to consciousness, and that gave him the time to think about what he had done. Or what he had probably done. The last thing he remembered was his wish to hurt Dagnir, and to hurt him fiercely. He remembered seeing his bleeding and broken form hanging in the ropes, the man panting and wheezing, with bruises already forming on his face.

/Ai, what have I done? What if I killed him? And what if I have not, but he now has decided to never ever tell us about the poison and the cure/

But another voice in Legolas head, the voice that he called responsible for his fury and all the stupid things he had ever done, told him in no unclear terms that Dagnir would not have told them about the antidote no matter what they did. Dagnir was bent on revenge and he would not back down just because some elves threatened him.

That had not worked three years ago, and that would not work now.

Still, Legolas knew that what he had done had probably cost him more than he was willing to pay. Eru, he had endangered Estel's life! And that of the twins as well! What had he been thinking! Legolas groaned inwardly.

/Nothing. You did not think. That was the problem, you stupid, dim-witted, thick-headed, foolish, rash, reckless, wooden-headed, silly, idiotic.../

Just as he was coming up with more endearments for himself, not only in Sindarin, but in Westron, Quenya and the little bit of Rohirric that he knew, he felt someone crouch down next to him, and then the gentle voice of Elrohir penetrated his thoughts,

"Legolas? Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

All in himself wanted to say 'no'. No, he was not awake, he was not yet ready to face his blunder, not yet willing to see the disappointment in his friends' faces. In Aragorn's face.

_/Estel/_

Legolas forced his eyes open, the wish to see his friend and to make sure that he was all right stronger than the desire to stay in his little world of self reproach.

Blinking to clear his slightly fuzzy vision and silently threatening the ants in his head that he would send them some frogs or whatever animals ate ants in the near future if they did not stop gnawing at his skull _'right now', _Legolas focused his gaze on the elf leaning over him.

"Elrohir?"

"No, the Lady Galadriel." Legolas could see Elrohir turn his head and speak to someone behind him, "Dan, I think you hit him a bit too hard."

Shaking his head and instantly regretting it when the ants where joined by some trolls, Legolas said softly, "No, I needed that. I was not thinking clearly."

"Indeed. Well, I cannot blame you, Legolas. I think I would have done the same, had I not been so worried about Estel."

Sitting up straight, and wincing openly when the ants and trolls were joined by a fiery Balrog, Legolas gasped, "Estel? How is he? Is he all right?" He scanned the camp frantically, and when his eyes finally settled on a still from that was wrapped in cloaks and blankets, Legolas tried to get to his feet.

"Estel! Oh please."

"Easy, Legolas." Elrohir cautioned when Legolas swayed unsteadily on his feet. Grabbing one of Legolas's arms, Elrohir gently but purposefully steered him over to the sleeping form of Estel, hissing under his breath, "Truly Dan, did you have to hit him that hard?"

Only now did Legolas become aware of the older twin; Elladan sat cross-legged beside his sleeping brother, one hand protectively on Aragorn's chest. Lifting an eyebrow, Elladan grinned somewhat sheepishly up at Legolas, "I am sorry, Legolas, but you protested rather fiercely, and I saw no other way to stop you. And besides, you were not out 'that' long."

_/They are joking! They would not joke if Estel had died. They would not joke if anything had happened./_

This thought was very encouraging, and when Legolas finally reached Aragorn's side and crouched down beside him with Elrohir's help, he saw with relief that Aragorn was breathing regularly, if not as deeply as normally.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and wiped some stray hair from Aragorn's forehead.

_/Thank Eru./_

Lifting his head and noticing that the Balrog had apparently found another victim and that the trolls seemed to have gone into hiding as well, Legolas asked fearfully, "Will he be all right? Was he awake?"

Elladan smiled at him, but the smile did not truly reach his eyes, "No, he was not awake yet, but he should wake up soon. And I hope he will be all right, although we cannot tell. I mean, he stopped breathing, and it took some time to restart his breathing. Legolas, I do not know what he will be like when he wakes up, but I hope he will be fine."

Legolas swallowed, and then looked down at Aragorn once more. His voice was but a whisper when he apologized, "I am so sorry, mellyn. When I heard Dagnir laugh, I just…it…I am sorry."

Elrohir, who had not moved from their side, placed a comforting hand on Legolas's shoulder. "As I said before, I can understand what you have done, and I think I would have done the same. Do not worry, Dagnir will survive."

Legolas could have sworn there swung a note of regret in Elrohir's voice, but he did not pursue this line of thought any further, and instead focused his attention on his sleeping friend. If anything, Aragorn looked even paler than before the attack, his dark eyelashes contrasting starkly against the white skin.

_/Oh my friend, I wish I could have done anything to help you./_

Stroking one pale cheek, Legolas barely heard Elladan's softly spoken words, "Legolas? I am sorry I hit you. But if it is of any comfort to you, your skull is harder than an orc's, and I think I have sprained two of my fingers."

Legolas smiled wryly, and then stillness settled over the little group, as they all waited for Aragorn to wake up.

--oOo--

Morgwath crouched low behind some bushes and watched the scene unfold before his eyes. He could tell that the elves were truly worried about the sleeping ranger, and that apparently the poison had attacked once more.

_/Too bad for the poor fellow. But good for me./_

Grinning maliciously, Morgwath made his way silently over to the bound form of Dagnir. When he came closer, the man could tell that someone –most likely one of the elves- had worked the former captain over. Blood was trickling down the side of his face from a cut above his eye, his bottom lip was split and although he sat in the shade of the trees, Morgwath could tell that one side of the man's face was sporting some colourful bruises.

His grin widening, Morgwath sneaked up to Dagnir and then crouched down behind the still man.

"Dagnir!"

Dagnir moved a bit in his bonds, and then lifted his head tiredly. When he saw no-one, he rested his head back at the tree, apparently exhausted and in pain.

With devilish glee, Morgwath leaned even closer, until his face was close to Dagnir's ear, and then he whispered, "Hello, Captain."

Dagnir's eyes widened and he jerked in his bonds, being so startled that his face turned white. But then, when he recognized the silent voice, his eyes glimmered with satisfaction, as if he had know that someone would come and rescue him.

Seeing that Dagnir was gagged, Morgwath removed the piece of cloth, and then secretly wiped his hand clean on the grass.

_/Disgusting…/_

"Morgwath! I knew you would come. Go on, cut me lose."

"No." His voice was flat and emotionless, and as his face was invisible for Dagnir, the former captain could not see the smirk that flittered over Morgwath face.

_/We have a private score to settle, Dagnir, and I will see that you are not getting out of this alive./_

"What?" Dagnir's eyes had widened even further, and his voice turned angry. "Well, you better cut me lose, or you will regret it."

"I don't think that would be wise, Sir." Morgwath had real trouble saying that title, but for the time being Dagnir had to play along with his plan. Yes, Morgwath could kill the man here and now, it would be so easy.

_/So, why am I not doing it then? Just lift that knife of yours and get it over with./_

But even as he reached behind him to take out his knife, Morgwath knew that he would not end it this way. Oh no, he had other plans for Dagnir, and he wanted to see him suffer before he died, and if the elves could help him in this matter, then he would neither free Dagnir now, nor kill him.

_/And from the look of his face, the elves are none too gentle with him./_

Dagnir's only barely suppressed anger made him refocus, "So, why not? Cut me lose!"

"Because then the elves would search for you and know that I am still alive. It would be wiser to not alert them to my presence. And we have no horses."

"Curse the horses, they are here somewhere, we can simply take two. Cut me lose!"

Morgwath cursed his tongue. Truly, he was a man of deeds, not words. But it only took the man a second to find another valuable point of argument to make Dagnir stay were he was.

"If I free you, Sir, then what about the ranger? You would not be able to see him suffer, not as you can now."

A moment later, Dagnir was grinning evilly, his tongue flicking over his split bottom lip. Nodding his head slowly, he agreed,

"Right, you are right there Morgwath. Aye, I enjoyed the last few hours. Yes…"

"Good, then do not try to escape and stay a good prisoner. I will be around and make sure that the elves are not getting to their home too quickly."

And with that, he reached out and put the gag back in place, without any resistance from Dagnir. Dagnir's face showed his glee, and it looked to Morgwath as if he was caught in a memory that was so wonderful that he had already forgotten all else.

When Morgwath stepped back into the shadows of the forest and slowly circled the camp site to locate the horses and get a better look at the outlay of the place, he asked himself why he had talked to Dagnir at all.

But, he knew the answer. To see the former captain bound and in pain brought satisfaction to his heart, and the fact that he had made the man believe that he would free him in the end, made him smile darkly.

_/It will be so good to see him get killed in the end, and the look on his face when he realizes that it was me who betrayed him will be even better. Revenge is truly best served ice cold./_

Slowly, Morgwath stepped around some trees and then he heard the soft snort of the horses.

_/And now it is time to see if my horse still holds my provisions./_

Tbc…

**Hi! Another chapter. Oh, do not worry, you will learn about Morgwath motives soon enough. eg. Any comments? Please, please, please, please, please? I have gone almost two weeks without your wonderful remarks. I am starving! And I need a little push to write the next chapter. :)**


	26. 25 A danger in the dark

**A/N 1:** Hi! Here is the next chapter. Review replies went out yesterday. Some of you replied anonymously, so I could not reply, sorry. Perhaps you can review the next time with an email adress, than I can answer your questions. :o) This chapter is a bit longer than the average, but I had the feeling you wanted the story to progress a bit and have some action. Well, I wanted to have some action. ;)

**A/N 2:** This chapter is not betaed, I am sorry for all the mistakes. Please keep in mind that English is not my native tongue.

* * *

_Elvish terms:_

Aníron gwanna: I wish I could leave.

Daro: Stop

Hebo estel: Have hope

Man mathach: How do you feel?

No diriel: Be watchful

Sedho: Quiet

Yrch: Orcs

* * *

_"In the darkness does hide threat and fear,_

_you shiver, sweat and swear, oh bear!"

* * *

_

Chapter 25: A danger in the dark

Glorfindel stood in his own study, staring out of the window. He had been standing there for quite some time; with his hands folded behind his back and his rigid posture, he looked more like a stature than a living being. He had not been able to find sleep during the night, and had decided to get some work done, but his thoughts had been elsewhere and so he had abandoned his work, left his papers lying scattered across his desk, and instead watched the night fade into grey twilight and then a rosy dawn.

The hidden valley of Imladris spread in front of his window, high up in the Last Homely House. He could see the green meadows and the white cliff walls, the sparkling rivers and the ponds and lakes. The forest spread out below him, and the ancient trees swayed slightly in the morning breeze, causing the last leaves to sail to the ground lazily.

It was a wonderful morning; the night's dew had frozen and glittered like silver pearls in the cobwebs, the first shallow lakes had started to freeze over and the air was fresh and pure. Not able to resist the temptation, Glorfindel reached out and opened the window, letting the cold air wash over him.

He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, his breath misted in front of his face. For many hours he had debated with himself, whether he should talk to Elrond about his idea. Elrond would not like it; it would make him feel useless and only serve to increase his worry. But still, Glorfindel though that something needed to be done, and the sooner the better.

Taking one last look at the valley below him, he closed the window and turned. With a few quick steps he was at his door and out in the corridor. And when he finally reached Elrond's study, he was determined to tell his Lord and friend about his idea.

Knocking, Glorfindel waited, and upon receiving the permission to enter, he opened the door and stepped inside. As he had assumed, Elrond stood near the window, wearing the same robes that he had worn the day before. There was no need to ask whether Elrond had slept, Glorfindel could tell by the paleness of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes that he had not.

Closing the door behind him and making his way to the large desk that stood in front of the window, Glorfindel noticed the tray with untouched food and the neatly folded blankets on the couch, but said nothing. What he had come to say would upset Elrond, and he felt no need to add to the strain that he would undoubtedly put on Elrond.

Elrond took a deep breath and then gestured at one of the chairs that stood in front of his desk, indicating that Glorfindel take a seat. But Glorfindel only shook his head; he did not want to sit down right now. Always when he sat in one of those chairs, he got a feeling as if he was still an elfling, talking to some mighty elven Lord. No, it would be easier to say what he had come to say while standing.

Elrond frowned slightly when Glorfindel shook his head, but said nothing. He knew his friend well enough to know that Glorfindel had not come to wish him a good morning or to ask if he wanted to join him for breakfast, and the fact that the Gondolin elf refused to sit down only underlined that impression.

Without his conscious thought, Glorfindel took on his warrior stance, and when he caught Elrond's frown and then the lifted eyebrow, he knew that he could no longer delay the inevitable.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Good morning, Elrond. I hope you have been able to sleep some hours."

Elrond only gave him a sad smile, "No, I have not. Glorfindel, I think we know each other long enough to be frank with each other. Say what you have come to say and I will listen."

"You will not like what I have to say, my friend."

"Has that ever stopped you?"

Now it was Glorfindel who smiled sadly, but then he became serious once more, "More than a week has passed since the twins left, and we have had no word. I think we should sent out a search party."

For a long moment Elrond simply stood near the window, his face guarded and his eyes not betraying his emotions. Then, he asked softly, "And the part that I will not like is?"

Glorfindel stated firmly, "You will stay here."

"I do not like it."

"I know, mellon nin. Elrond, I will take some of my best warriors, and we will divide into two groups to be able to cover more ground. One of the groups should be able to find the twins, and with a bit of luck Estel will be with them. We will do all we can to bring them home safely."

Elrond took a step away from the window, "And what if they have been injured or their condition has worsened drastically? I could help them."

"And what if they come home and you are not here to help them?"

Elrond flinched at the words, and then turned his back on Glorfindel to look out the window. Deep inside Elrond knew that his friend was right, but sometimes it was so hard to not be able to follow the heart, but the mind.

Seeing his friend's inner struggle, Glorfindel stepped up to him and placed on strong hand on his shoulder, "I will find them, Elrond. I promise."

Once more, a sad smile flittered over Elrond's face, "Aníron gwanna."

"Iston, mellon nin."

Silence fell, but after some minutes of silent support, Glorfindel asked softly, "No word from Mirkwood or the rangers?"

Elrond shook his head, "No. Mirkwood is too far away to expect an answer yet, and the rangers, although nearer, have not answered. Perhaps the bird never found their camp."

"Aye, perhaps. But perhaps they are already out there, looking for Estel. If I am not very much mistaken, Halbarad is stationed in the camp near the Ettenmoors, and you know how he is if Estel is late."

A small sad chuckle left Elrond's lips, "Oh yes, I know. He is almost as worse as we are, mellon nin."

Glorfindel squeezed Elrond's shoulder, and with a voice that held all the hope and strength that he had, he reassured his Lord and friend, "We will find them and bring them home. You will see, all will be well in the end. Hebo estel, Elrond."

Placing his own hand atop of Glorfindel's, Elrond nodded, "Go with my blessing, Glorfindel. Be quick and safe."

Glorfindel nodded, and left the study. But Elrond, despite his friend's words, felt the darkness surround him, and he stood for many hours at the window, unseeingly starring at the world outside.

--oOo--

Morning grew into midday and midday into afternoon, but still Aragorn had not woken. The elves had alternatively sat by his side, talked to him in soothing voices, tended to the fire, cared for the horses or cleaned and sharpened their weapons. There was nothing else to do, but the waiting made them uneasy, and they all felt the need to do something.

They had discussed if they should wake Aragorn, but decided that it would be best to let his body get the sleep it needed, and make plans as soon as he woke up. Already it was so late that they would not leave, but stay at least for another night near the brook.

Currently, Elladan and Elrohir took stock of their provisions, while Legolas sat close to Aragorn, singing an old elvish tune:

"Whispering winds grace lands and seas,

caress mountains as well as trees.

To listening ears they tell a story,

Of ancient deeds of fame and glory.

°°°°°

"A battle was fought in lands far away,

For many months through night and day.

Of death they tell and bloody end,

But not for you and me my friend.

°°°°°

"Dust turned to life…"

In the distance, Legolas could see some bird of prey circle in the air; the animal was barely moving its wings and solely using the warmer winds to sail across the sky. Following the bird with his eyes, Legolas could tell that the animal had found some prey or another, but just as the bird pressed its wings at his body and dove to the ground, Legolas's attention was drawn to a movement beside him.

Instantly forgetting the bird and song, Legolas leaned closer towards Aragorn and looked intently. There! Aragorn's eyelids fluttered, and the man stirred under the cloak and blankets.

Feeling his heart pound in his chest, Legolas was not able to keep the note of excitement out of his voice, "Estel? Can you hear me?"

When Aragorn moaned softly and then tried to curl into a ball, Legolas's excitement turned into worry.

"Estel? Are you awake? Estel?"

Aragorn's eyelids fluttered once more, and then the grey eyes opened slowly. Aragorn blinked a few times, and to Legolas it seemed as if he had trouble focusing, and when Aragorn simply closed his eyes a moment later and wrapped his arms around his chest and drew his knees towards the same, Legolas felt his stomach twist painfully.

"Estel? Please, talk to me."

Gently, Legolas placed his hand on Aragorn's too cold cheek, needing the contact to reassure himself that Aragorn was still with him.

Having heard the raised voices, the twins quickly came over and crouched down beside their brother and friend, immediately taking in the protective posture of Aragorn. Exchanging a quick look with his twin, Elrohir gently stroked some of the dark hair away from the pale face,

"Estel? Can you hear me?"

For a few moments, Aragorn merely lay motionless on the ground, but then he uncurled and nodded. His eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes, and from the glassy look of them the elves could tell that he was in severe pain.

Keeping his voice low so as not to hurt Aragorn even more in case he had a headache, Elladan asked gently, "Man mathach?"

Aragorn seemed to contemplate the question for a moment, but then he said hoarsely, "Hurts."

"What exactly hurts, Estel?"

Swallowing, Aragorn took another breath, but Legolas could see that it was shallow and that Aragorn flinched a bit doing so. A sinking feeling entered Legolas's stomach, and all of a sudden he did not wish to know how Aragorn felt exactly. The moment he had tried to get Aragorn to resume breathing played before his inner eye, and the way he had pushed down on his friend's chest and broken ribs.

It was Aragorn's voice that brought him back to the present, "Breathing hurts and my broken ribs hurt, too."

Legolas could not help the flinch that appeared on his features, or the fact that he could not look Aragorn in the eyes. It was his fault that his friend hurt so much, his fault that Aragorn was in pain.

While Elrohir left his brothers' side to get a cup of the pain reducing tea, Legolas let his eyes wander over Aragorn's face. The man was pale, so pale that Legolas had no problems seeing the tiny blue arteries under the skin, or tiny red spots of fever on his cheeks. Aragorn's eyes were glassy with pain, and the white of them was lined with red where the arteries had been damaged.

Aragorn took another painful breath, and then suddenly began to cough, when his battered chest constricted in agony. He rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up, but that movement seemed to cause him only more pain, as his injured knee protested at the motion. Gasping and coughing, Aragorn struggled to regain his breath, and to Legolas mounting horror, he had to watch helplessly as his friend broke out in cold sweat, and then began to tremble slightly.

Feeling the need to help, to do something, Legolas reached out and placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, wishing to support him in his pain and help him pull through it. But to his terror, the moment he laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder and squeezed it gently, the man cried out in pain and curled into a tight ball.

Terrified, Legolas snatched his hand back as if he had burnt it, staring with wide eyes down at his suffering friend.

_/On no, his shoulder! How could I forget/_

Legolas began to shake his head from left to right, the apology on his lips, but the arrival of Elrohir stopped him from saying a word.

Crouching down by his trembling brother, Elrohir glanced briefly at Elladan and Legolas, and then peeled the blanket and cloak away to lay open the tunic and shirt Aragorn wore. To their dismay, the tunic spotted some red specks were it lay over the bandaged shoulder, and when Elrohir gently touched the shoulder, Aragorn moaned in pain.

Soothing Aragorn with gentle words, Elrohir checked his forehead for a fever, and upon Elladan's questioning look, he nodded sadly. Guilt and worry flittered over both twins' faces; they knew that the strength Aragorn had used to save them from the poison had drained him, leaving his body open to infection. And furthermore, the actual attack of the poison had not helped to let his body heal.

Sighing softly, Elrohir caressed Aragorn cheek, and when the man opened his glassy eyes, Elrohir said gently, "Estel, you have a fever. We need to treat your wounds again."

Reaching behind him and retrieving the cup he had brought, he smiled, "Here, Estel. Drink this. It will help with the pain."

With the support of Elladan, Aragorn managed to drink half of the tea before he had to stop, gasping for air and bracing his good arm against his ribcage to at least try to staff off the pain from his broken ribs.

Some long minutes later, he finished the tea, and Elladan laid him back down on the ground, using a spare piece of cloth to wipe the sweat off of Aragorn's brow. While Elrohir busied himself with readying the things he would need to treat his brother, Legolas quietly sat beside Aragorn, watching the brothers' interaction and feeling like a woollen blanket in summer: absolutely useless and left forgotten in some corner.

The pain reducing tea slowly took effect, but when Elrohir peeled away the tunic around the wound, and then cleaned the wound and rebandaged it, Legolas could see how much energy and self-control it cost Aragorn to not cry out in pain or fight his brother's hands.

Using the opportunity, Elrohir also treated the burnt hand and the numerous scratches and bruises that Aragorn had suffered from the rockslide, and then he checked the broken ribs and wrapped them tightly. The knee, he left untouched, knowing that even with the tea, Aragorn would not be able to bear the pain in his current state.

Soon after Elrohir had tied off the last bandage and Elladan had wrapped Aragorn in the cloak and blankets again, the man fell asleep, his cheeks flushed in fever and his breathing shallow and irregular even in sleep.

Sitting back on his haunches, Elrohir wiped a hand across his brow and sighed deeply, "He has become worse. The fever is not high and we should be able to bring it down with the herbs we have with us, but I fear for him. In his current state, any new injury could mean a complete breakdown of his system."

Closing his eyes at this news, Legolas let his head hang. To him, it was to a part his fault that Aragorn was worse than before. Oh yes, he knew that his actions had probably saved his life, but right now, the guilt he felt at causing him more pain overweighed this thought. With a low voice he asked timidly,

"Have I broken any more ribs?"

"Hm?" Elrohir glanced at Legolas in confusion. But then it hit him like a woodman's axe, and he shook his head agitatedly,

"No, Eru no, Legolas. You did not hurt him, you saved his life, mellon nin. Without you, Estel would be dead by now. Legolas, I have not thanked you yet for saving my little brother."

And with that, the younger twin kneeled down in front of Legolas, placed his right hand over his chest where his heart was, bowed his head, and said seriously, "Hannon le, Legolas. I owe you."

Mirroring his twin, Elladan did the same from where he sat beside Aragorn's head, and Legolas was shocked to hear the words and then see the twins' postures.

"No, you do not have to thank me." Legolas said quickly, shaking his head. "He is my friend. He would do the same for me, and has done it many times."

Nodding, the twins smiled at Legolas, feeling relieved to see their friend more at ease now. Settling down near Aragorn, the three of them spoke softly about all and nothing, waiting for the man to wake.

Aragorn did wake more than once during the night, caught in his fever and pain, but when the morning dawned frosty and clear, the fever had broken and his sleep had turned into a true deep sleep that brought rest and healing.

The elves were all relieved that the fever had broken so quickly, and Elrohir thought that they had detected the fever early enough to stop it from manifesting itself completely, and they had fought it before it could settled in the weak body.

Just as the sun had fully ascended from behind the horizon and gone on its journey across the light blue winter sky, Aragorn's groggy mind drifted towards wakefulness. The first thing he became aware of was the twittering of birds; not the cheery spring birds or the loud summer singers, but a mixture of fall cheerers and lonely winter birds.

Groaning inwardly as his still somewhat feverish mind associated this winter birds with the small twittering nuisance that had made his life so miserable in the clearing he had been trapped in, Aragorn tried to focus his hearing instead on other sounds.

After some moments, he could make out the sound of a crackling fire and then low voices reached his ears. He could not make out the words, but the voices sounded not overly agitated or tense.

Feeling relieved to hear the voices of his brothers and friend, and being assured that they were all right, Aragorn tried unconsciously to snuggle deeper into his blankets. He felt tired and weak, the ordeal of the last day and night still clear on his mind. Oh, what would he give for a good night's rest, in a soft bed, with pillows filled with down,and the help of his father's sleeping tea.

Of course, he did not like the tea, and whenever his father made him drink it he pretended to not need it, but right now, he would not complain. The nightmare he had had a few night's back had not been the first one since all this had started, and Aragorn simply wished for some hours of refreshing sleep.

Alas, it was not to be, for when he snuggled deeper into his blankets, shifting his position to lye more comfortably, Elladan spotted his movements, and soon his brothers were checking his injuries, making him drink some soup, eat some rather dry bread and drew him into their conversation.

Aragorn, thinking that it would not help to argue with his brothers, did what they told him to do, answered their questions, and ignored the signals of pain and tiredness his body send him as best he could. And it was not easy; more than once he missed a question, and when he accidentally addressed Elrohir as Elladan, the twins exchanged worried glances.

"Estel, do you feel all right? Do you have a headache?" From the tone of Elrohir's voice, Aragorn could tell that the younger twin was not only worried, but extremely concerned.

Shaking his head, he tried to sound convincing, "No, Ro. I am fine, or as fine as can be excepted."

"Are you sure? You look pale, brother, and you act strangely."

"More strangely than usual?" Aragorn could not help but smile at the twins, although it turned out to be more a grimace than a true smile.

Giving Aragorn a surprised look, Elladan tried to match his brothers levity, "Well yes, actually you act a bit more strangely than usual."

Not wanting to go back to worry and tension, Aragorn tilted his head sideways and gave Elladan his most innocent look, "How so? Care to elaborate?"

Seeing that he had manoeuvred himself into a corner, Elladan shot his twin a pleading look, but Elrohir simply shrugged his shoulders as if to say that Elladan had to help himself out of this.

Swallowing, Elladan looked back at Aragorn, who sat motionless near the fire, waiting for his answer.

"Mh, well you see Estel, first, you drink your tea without complaining." Elladan stuck out his right forefinger to count off his points of argument.

Aragorn grimaced, "Thought it was juice."

"Second, you confuse me for Elrohir."

"Mortal eyesight."

"Third, you slept nearly a whole day and night."

"Was tired off your bickering."

"And last but not least, you have not even once given use your 'I am annoyed at your constant mothering' look."

"I gave up on you ever stopping your mother hen attitudes."

Elladan gave Aragorn a mock hurt look, and the two off them stared at each other for a long moment, both trying hard not to laugh; Elladan because he did not want to be the first to break his façade, and Aragorn because he knew that it would annoy his brother if Elladan would be the first to laugh.

Both their plans were screwed as a soft snicker came from the other side of the fire. Glancing sideways, Aragorn saw how Legolas had clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes screwed shut, and his whole body shaking noiselessly with silent laughter. Another snicker escaped from behind his hand.

"Legolas, you are not helping matters." Aragorn grumbled.

It was all the elf needed to lose his self control, and soon he was holding his sides laughing so hard, that Aragorn and the twins readily joined him in his merriness. Indeed, it did feel good to have a moment of happiness, no matter how short it was, or ill timed.

When the merry sniggers and chuckles died down, Aragorn gasped for breath, his ribs and lungs hurting fiercely; but he did not regret it. He felt more at ease now, and his tiredness had made place for complete wakefulness. Feeling ready to start the day and get on the road again, he got slowly and painfully to his feet, trying to put almost no pressure on his injured leg.

Which was hopeless of course. He swayed and would have fallen to the ground, but strong arms wrapped around his uninjured upper arm, steadying him and holding him upright. Nodding his thanks to Legolas, Aragorn took a deep breath to fight the pain that had erupted in his whole body, and then slowly made his way over to the river with Legolas's help.

The twins cleared away the camp; they extinguished the fire and shattered the ashes, they packed their bags and readied the horses for another long day of riding.

Having reached the stream, Legolas gently lowered Aragorn to the ground again, and then handed him a clean piece of cloth. He helped Aragorn wash his face, neck, hands and arms, and also cleaned as much of the dark and unruly hair as was possible without wetting the hair completely. To catch a chill would be no good for Aragorn right now, and riding with wet hair in cold weather like this would only encourage the fever to return with new vengeance.

After shaving and donning a fresh tunic, the last clean tunic that Aragorn had in his pack to be precise, Legolas attempted to comb his friend's hair. They had to pass the time until the twins had broken camp, and he only knew too well from his own experience how one felt after having had a night like Aragorn's. A clean body and combed hair worked sometimes wonders.

But still, Legolas had to grin as the comb got stuck in the tangled knots that Aragorn called hair, and after some minutes of rather fruitless tugging and plucking, he simply took some of the dark strands and braided them quickly, so that they would not fall into Aragorn's face. The hair was a bit too short for real elvish braiding, but it looked decent and would serve its purpose.

The fresh water revived Aragorn even more as the laughing had done, and as soon as the twins had finished packing, Legolas helped him to the horses and then into the saddle in front of Elrohir. As Elladan had rode with Aragorn the last days, it was now Elrohir's turn, while Elladan would guide Dagnir's horse. Legolas was to ride at the front, scouting and making sure that the road was safe and obstacle free. The humans' horses would follow them, carrying most of the provisions, as they had no riders.

Settling as comfortable as possible on the horse, and gently replacing Elrohir's supportive hand a bit higher up on his chest to keep it away from his broken ribs, Aragorn cast a quick look at Dagnir. The man was still gagged and bound, but somehow that did not stop Aragorn from feeling threatened by him.

In the last few days, and especially after Legolas apple attack, the menacing figure of Dagnir had hovered somewhere in the back of Aragorn's mind; always present, but nothing but a shadow. Only now he realized that his brothers and Legolas had truly made a good job in keeping Dagnir away and out of his sight. It seemed the old human saying "What you cannot see, seldom bothers you" was right after all.

The attack of the poison had changed that, though. As a ranger, Aragorn was used to injuries, and he could deal with the pain or at least bear it. But the poison, which attacked without warning, scared him. Perhaps it was because he never knew when it would attack, although the time span was roughly four days, as they had found out. Four days, three more days and the poison would most likely strike again…

Giving his head a curt shake, Aragorn forced the thought away. It would not do to think about that now. And deep inside, Aragorn knew that he was not so scared of the venom because he did not know when it would attack next. No, it was rather its whole unpredictability.

To feel your body react to something that you could not understand, that could kill you in a heartbeat or turn you into a crying, slobbering, hurting or whining thing at will, that was what made the poison so scary. What if the next stage of the poison made them hallucinate and attack each other? What if it muddled his senses and mind, turning him into a crazy maniac?

A small shudder raced through Aragorn body, and he felt Elrohir strengthen his hold on him, and then wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders to staff off the cold. Little could Elrohir know that the cold Aragorn was feeling was not coming from the outside…

A soft snort of a horse lifted Aragorn out of his dark thoughts and, thankful for the diversion, he looked to the left. Legolas guided his horse beside Elrohir's and nodded, "I think we are ready and can move out. If the weather holds, we should make good progress."

"Aye, Elladan? Are you ready as well?" Elrohir asked over his shoulder.

Now, with Legolas so close and at eye level, and without the struggle to keep on his feet, Aragorn for the first time noticed the small bruise that marred Legolas right temple. Frowning, Aragorn said surprised,

"Legolas, what happened? Where did you get that bruise?"

For the tiniest of moments, Legolas's eyes widened, but then he gave his friend a small smile and Aragorn could tell that Legolas was going to tell him a well prepared lie.

"Oh that. I was collecting some firewood yesterday and I overlooked a low hanging branch in the dark. Do not worry, it is nothing."

Aragorn knew that Legolas was lying. He always, or at least most times, knew. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Elrohir spoke up, "Shall we?" And without waiting for the others, he spurred his horse on.

Legolas quickly sped to the front of the group and Elladan stayed in the back. Confused and slightly irritated at his brother's behaviour, Aragorn asked lowly, "Ro? What truly happened?"

"It is as he says, Estel. Now rest, we have a long day before us."

And with that, Elrohir pressed Aragorn gently against his strong chest, so that he could rest without straining his numerous injuries. Releasing the air he had been holding in a long suffering sigh of defeat, Aragorn settled back. But he had not given up, and he would find out what had truly happened while he had been sleeping. If his brothers and Legolas wanted to hide something from him, fine, but that did not mean that he would give up without a fight.

And when the small party left the clearing beside the river and once more rode under the leafless branches of the high trees, Aragorn wondered whether he had only imagined the bruises on Dagnir's face, when he had given him the quick glance.

--oOo--

The day passed uneventful, and in the evening they settled down near some old oaks, lit a small fire and spent the night under the protection of the trees. The ride exhausted Aragorn more than he cared to admit, and he feel asleep almost immediately after finishing his food.

The elves made sure that Dagnir was cared for as well, tended the horses and then set up watches to make sure that nothing threatened them during the night. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, and when the moon rose behind the bare trees, its light showed them that the clouds would bring the first snow. Then, the clouds hid the moon, and stillness came with the darkness.

Despite the darkness that was surely inviting to predators of all kinds, nothing stirred in the forest surrounding them beside some owls and mice, and when morning dawned cold and misty, the small group packed away their belongings and set out towards Imladris.

This day, Elladan rode with Aragorn, Elrohir led Dagnir's horse and Legolas once more scouted the road, claiming that he was the only one who was uninjured and therefore able to react prompter should a threat arise.

Around midday they stopped near some clusters of rocks to rest the horses and eat some food, and then headed out again. To his own surprise, Aragorn began to hate the times they would stop for rest. It was not that he wished to stay on the horse all day, with one of his brothers behind him to make sure he would not fall off, but after a few hours in the saddle, his various hurts began to grow numb. He still felt them when the horse shifted under him or he himself moved, but that was nothing in comparison to the times they stopped for rest.

Because then, he was ripped out of his stupor and thoughts, back to the world of the living. Dismounting the horse with stiff limbs was excruciatingly painful and difficult; his shoulder would scream at him furiously, his knee would neither bend nor support his weight and his broken ribs would give him a hard time breathing.

And then, he would sit on the ground or some log or rock and massage his aching limb back to relative smoothness, only to then mount the horse again and begin the circle all over again. The first hour after the rest was almost as painful as the first hour in the evening after dismounting, and with ever step the horse took Aragorn wished to get down from the horse.

But, he never said a word. When the time came to dismount for rest and food, he clenched his teeth and let his brothers or Legolas help him dismount; he did not complain when his muscles cramped or his vision blurred, nor did he show openly how painful it was for him to get up on the horse again.

What reason was there to burden his brothers and Legolas with this? Aragorn knew they all felt bad enough, and he did not wish to add to their unease. So, he bore the hours of riding and resting stoically, the thought that they would reach Imladris in two to three days giving him the strength he needed.

On the evening of the second day after they left the river behind them, they entered a part of the forest that consisted of mostly firs. The dry needles of the firslittered the forest ground, swallowing the horses' steps.

The air scented fresh despite the bare trees, and the stillness of the gloaming was only interrupted by the snorting of the horses and the occasional snap of a twig. Pines grew here as well, and they towered over the riders like protecting sentinels, shadowing them and giving them all the feeling of unimportantness.

As they were only a few days travel away from the hidden valley, they all knew this area relatively well, and therefore the twins had opted to ride through dusk to reach the shelter of some old ruins that stood in this forest since the beginning of the Third Age.

None of them had disagreed, and so they rode on through the dusk, the sky growing darker and the air colder. Aragorn could feel the first chill of snow in the air, and for the first time that day he wished to dismount and instead sit close to a warm fire, with some hot tea and perhaps one of Legolas's stories of Mirkwood's spiders to keep his mind off the pain in his body.

The cold of the day had settled in Aragorn's limbs, despite his best efforts, and he knew that dismounting the horse would be difficult. Already his legs were practically numb, and his hands had problems holding onto the saddle's pommel. So far, Elladan seemed to not have noticed his brother's discomfort, and Aragorn was at least glad to have spared his brother that particular worry. After all, he would find out as soon as they reached the ruins.

Knowing that he would not see much in the growing darkness, Aragorn let his head rest on Elladan's strong shoulder and closed his eyes. He was tired, no question, and Elladan would not mind if he rested until they reached their campsite.

Suddenly, Aragorn felt Elladan stiffen behind him, and for a second he thought his brother was indeed bothered by his movement, but then the whispered words of Legolas reached his ears, "Daro!"

Opening his eyes, Aragorn could just make out the form of Legolas, who had stopped his horse only a few yards in front of Elladan's, his right hand lifted in the universal gesture to stop. His head was tilted to the side, and he seemed to listen carefully.

Elladan stopped his horse, as well as Elrohir, and both looked at their friend questioningly. Just as Aragorn felt Elladan take a breath to speak, Legolas spoke again, "Sedho! I hear something coming."

Legolas reached towards his back and took off his bow and nocked an arrow, before he tilted his head to the other side to listen. A few moments passed in which none of them spoke, but then Elrohir asked softly, "Yrch?"

"No, I do no think so. The trees are not speaking of the foul beasts, although I cannot be sure, for most of the trees here are already sleepy with winter."

Aragorn could not help the sinking feeling in his stomach, and without his conscious thought his hand moved to his side, where his sword should have been. He cursed silently under his breath as his hand met only thin air. His brothers had taken the sword and his other weapons back from Dagnir, but with his injured shoulder, knee and broken ribs, they had deemed it wiser if he did not carry the heavy sword, but only a hunting dagger in a sheath at his other side.

Of course the twins were right with that, the weight of the sword would have aggravated his injuries and made riding with his brothers difficult and unpleasant, but still, Aragorn wished he had his trusted sword ready.

Then, Elladan whispered into his ear, "Do not worry, Estel. I will protect you should we be attacked. Just stay on the horse, or if you have to dismount, stay close to me."

Aragorn nodded, somewhat relieved, but that did not help the feeling of foreboding that settled over his senses. What could be in these woods so close to the borders of Imladris? The border patrols usually drove the wolves out of this area, and Legolas had said it were no orcs…

The horse shifted nervously under them, and then the steed began to paw his hoof agitatedly into the ground. Patting the animal absently, Aragorn tried to hear what Legolas was sensing, but besides the wind rattling the branches and the nervous snorting of the horses, he heard nothing.

Elrohir rode up beside them, holding the rope that secured Dagnir's horse to his own in the one hand, and his sword in the other, as the elvish horse he rode obeyed his spoken commands loyally.

Exchanging a quick look with his twin, Elrohir directed his horse to the left, while Elladan moved his own a bit to the right, with Legolas in the middle and at the front. This way, they would be prepared for an attack from all sides. The humans' horses stayed somewhat in the back, pawing the ground nervously and flicking their ears. Whatever was in these woods, the horses sensed it as well.

A few long moments passed, and Aragorn could tell that Elrohir had increasingly difficulty controlling the horse Dagnir was riding. While the elvish horses snorted nervously but obeyed their masters, the horses of the humans neighed frightened and tried to break loose.

Feeling the unease of his own horse, Legolas chanced a quick look over his shoulder, and advised softly, "No diriel! Whatever it is, it is coming closer."

Aragorn gripped the handle of his hunting dagger tightly, while he felt Elladan tense behind him. The wind rustled the dry leaves and needles on the ground, blowing into their backs. And then, the wind suddenly changed direction and blew into their faces.

Almost instantly, all hell broke loose. The humans' horses neighed frightened, swishing their tales in fear; they reared and pulled at the ropes that secured them to Elrohir's horse, making the younger twin drop his sword and grip his horse's main tightly to stay atop.

Legolas and Elladan's steeds snorted agitatedly as well, sidestepping and clearly scared. While Legolas had little difficulty calming his horse, Elladan needed all his strength of will to calm his own. The horse was flicking its ears, eyes rolling in its sockets, hooves dancing over the ground. With two riders, the horse felt hampered, and its instincts told it clearly to flee and not to fight.

And then, just as Elladan thought he had controlled his horse, a loud growl reached their ears, and then the even louder roar of…a bear!

The moment the animal broke through the bushes in front of Legolas's horse, the horse reared, throwing Legolas to the ground. Legolas rolled to the side, avoiding the flying hooves with difficulty, and then jumped to his feet, bow raised and ready to shoot.

For a second he stared directly into the eyes of the huge black bear, and then the animal growled once more and vanished into the darkness. But Legolas could still hear it; the bear moved to the right, silent but not silent enough to escape the excellent hearing of an elf.

For a fleeting moment Legolas wondered why the animal was showing itself; bears were usually aware of elves or humans long before the elves or humans sensed the bear, and encounters were rare. Bears were shy and tried to avoid meetings with other creatures at all costs.

Unless they were protecting food or their young.

Before Legolas could follow that train of thought any further, he heard the bear growl once more, and his heart jumped into his throat. His eyes widened, and he aimed at the animal, but…too late.

With mounting horror, he had to watch helplessly as the bear broke through the underbrush right next to Elladan and Aragorn.

A bear! Aragorn could not believe their rotten luck. Of all animals that they could encounter in a forest, it had to be a potentially dangerous black bear. He saw how Legolas was thrown off his horse, but he was relived to see his friend regain his footing almost immediately. The bear vanished from sight, and in the darkness Aragorn could not see where it was going.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elrohir struggling with his own and Dagnir's horse, and knew that the younger twin would not be able to join in the fight, should it proof necessary to battle with the bear. The other horses were still neighing frightened, and it seemed only a matter of time before the three horses shook off the restraining ropes and broke free.

Just as Aragorn began to ask himself why the bear had shown itself at all, a deep growl came from his right. Their horse neighed afraid and in the next moment the steed reared, its front hooves pounding the air.

Aragorn felt himself sliding backwards, and he frantically grabbed for the pommel of the saddle to keep himself on the horse. Elladan yelled something that he could not understand, and when the horse's hooves crashed to the ground the next second, such a fierce pain shot through his broken ribs that tiny stars appeared in his line of vision. His heart raced, but before Aragorn had time to settled himself securely on the horse once more, the animal reared again.

Aragorn felt his brother loose his grip on him and slide from the horse, and the next moment he felt himself slide to the side, and then the stomach turning sensation of falling. With a breathtaking thud he landed on the hard and frozen ground himself, ears ringing and blood rushing to his head.

The crash drove the air out of his lungs, and his shoulder and chest were aflame with hot pain. Dimly Aragorn was aware that Elladan was yelling at him, and that the horse had taken off into the woods, but his body would not obey his commands, and so he could do nothing else but lay on his back on the cold ground, watching how the huge bear came closer and closer.

The dagger he had carried had been knocked from his hands, and Aragorn knew that he would stand no chance against a bear. Already he could see the five un-retractable claws on the paws of the beast, and the eyes of the bear glimmered dangerously.

Another loud roar filled the air, but before the bear could come any closer, a tall form positioned itself in front of Aragorn, sword in one hand, knife in the other. Elladan shot his brother a quick look over his shoulder, and then focused his attention on the bear in front of him.

Oh, he would not let his brother get hurt. First, this bear had to get through him.

Slowly, Aragorn regained some control over his body. Groaning in pain, he lifted his upper body off the ground and onto his elbows, and then pulled his legs up under his body. He needed to help Elladan, he had to get up!

And then suddenly, strong hands were placed behind his back, and in the next moment he was lifted onto his feet. A strong hand around his upper arm steadied him, and Aragorn looked up to see Legolas stand beside him.

Nodding his thanks quickly, Aragorn looked back towards Elladan. The elf was standing protectively in front of him, facing the bear, which had taken to a clockwise movement between the trees. The bear was still growling and roaring from time to time, but it was not coming any closer.

Slowly, Elladan backed away from the bear, as did Aragorn with Legolas's help. They all knew the bear could attack them any moment, but the backing away from a bear was the best thing one could do in situation such as this.

But, as it seemed nobody had told the bear this wisdom. As soon as Elladan moved, the bear growled deep inside its throat, and then suddenly advanced. Its huge paws dug into the ground, it lowered its head menacingly, and then charged.

Elladan had barely enough time to jump to the side, and Legolas had no other choice but to pull Aragorn to the side, when he was not able to move out of the bear's path fast enough. Grimacing and hissing in pain, Aragorn stumbled, but Legolas held him upright, and when the bear had passed them, Legolas pushed Aragorn behind his body to protect him.

The bear growled and then moved around, ignoring Elrohir and Dagnir completely, but then it saw the other horses and roared even louder. It was all the scared horses needed to finally break free.

Neighing and stomping the ground, the animals broke free from Elrohir's hold, and then tried to escape the threat. One of the horses simply ran away into the darkness, but the other two seemed confused and panicked. With rolling eyes, they suddenly charged away, but not into the forest, no…right at Legolas and Aragorn.

The horses made a huge arch around the bear, seeking to escape the beast, but that brought them directly into the line of the two friends.

While Elladan watched in horror, the two horses ran straight for Legolas and Aragorn, who could not escape the running steeds due to Aragorn's many injuries and the close proximity of the still growling bear.

For Legolas, everything happened so fast that he did not even think about what he was doing. And had he thought about it, he would have done the same. In one fluid motion he turned around, shoved Aragorn to the ground, and then covered him with his own body, holding his strong arms protectively over his friend's head.

In the next second, he felt the first panicked horse run over them, the hooves letting the dry needles fly into the air, and the ground trembling. One of the hooves barely missed Legolas's leg, and the elf curled around the human more tightly to protect him from the heavy animals.

The second horse neighed frightened and then Legolas felt the earth shake under him as the steed approached, and then ran across them. Suddenly, a breathtaking pain erupted from his right shoulder, and in an instant Legolas knew that the horse had hit him, had trampled him and Aragorn under its hooves.

For a moment, Legolas could not breathe as the pain spread through his body, but he did not move, and the next moment he felt the horse move on. The earth stilled, and all was quiet besides his own blood rushing in his ears and the frantic yells of both twins.

Lifting his head, Legolas grimaced in pain as his shoulder protested the movement, but there was not time to rest. Scrambling to his knees, Legolas shot a quick look over his shoulder, saw that the bear was still close, and then more dragged than helped Aragorn to his feet. The man swayed a moment and groaned in obvious pain, but Legolas ignored Aragorn's discomfort as well as his own, and quickly helped his friend behind a huge tree.

Pressing Aragorn against the rough bark and holding his friend upright with his own body, Legolas glanced around the tree. Elrohir was still atop his horse, trying to calm his steed and at the same time hindering Dagnir from escaping, while Elladan shouted at the bear to divert its attention away from Legolas and Aragorn.

When it did not work and the bear roared, barring sharp teeth, and then advanced at the tree Legolas and Aragorn were hiding behind, Elladan took up a stone from the ground and threw it at the bear. The stone bounced off the thick fur, but the bear did not even show that it had noticed it.

_/Why is the bear attacking us at all? And why us especially/_

Looking around frantically for a means of escape, Legolas eyes suddenly lightened on something brown and shady under some bushes to his right. Looking closer, he saw that whatever it was, it was moving.

And then it hit him! Of course! Some bears in this region were known to bear cubs in winter; obviously they had accidentally stumbled upon a mother and her cubs. And that was the reason the bear had attacked them and was now trying to fight Legolas. They were not only threatening the bear, but her cubs as well; every animal would attack an intruder in a situation such as this one.

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder, Legolas slowly pulled a very pale Aragorn close to his chest, and then began to back away from the tree and towards the bushes to his left. Perhaps if he could bring some distance between them and the cubs, perhaps the bear would leave them alone.

After some steps, Legolas felt how Aragorn tried to support his own weight, but the man was in far too much pain to be able to stand firmly on his own feet, and Legolas tightened his grip on his friend. They made some more steps away from the bear, and the animal stopped close to the tree they had been hiding behind.

Taking another deep and calming breath, Legolas manoeuvred himself and Aragorn towards the position of the twins, his eyes never leaving the beast. The bear gave another growl and then strolled into the bushes, its black fur mingling with the darkness. A few moments later, the bear had vanished in the forest, and Legolas sighed in relief. The danger had not passed completely, but as long as they did not near the bear and her cubs again, they should be relatively safe.

As if the disappearance of the bear had broken the spell, the pain in his shoulder suddenly intensified, and he gasped, stumbled and would have fallen, had Elladan not grabbed his arm and steadied him and Aragorn.

"Easy, Legolas, easy."

By now, Elrohir had managed to calm the two remaining horses down. He dismounted quickly, wrapped the reins around some tree, and rushed over towards them.

"Are you all right? Is anyone injured?"

Elladan shook his head to show his twin that he was all right, but then he gestured at Legolas, "The horses trampled him and Estel. I do not know how bad it is."

Aragorn, now more surefooted that he was not forced to walk, freed himself from Legolas's grip and turned around to face his friend. Legolas looked pale; needles and dirt clung to his clothing and hair, a scratch on his cheek indicated that he had indeed fallen from his horse.

"You saved my life, Legolas. Again. I do not know how I can…"

"No need, Estel. You would have done the same."

Aragorn gave him a small lopsided grin, and then stepped closer to take a better look at Legolas shoulder. They could all see that Legolas was in pain; his face was paler than usual, sweat stood on his brow, and he held his arm protectively pressed against his chest, now that he was no longer supporting Aragorn.

But Aragorn was not fit himself, and the moment he took his step, his leg bucked under him and he would have fallen to the ground, had Elrohir not wrapped his arms around his middle to catch him.

"Oh no, Estel, take it easy. We will take care of Legolas while you rest."

"Elrohir, I…" But his protest was cut short when Elladan gave him such a fierce look from behind Legolas, that Aragorn shut his mouth mid-sentence.

With that settled, Elrohir and Elladan steered Legolas and Aragorn to where Elrohir had left the horses. Helping Aragorn to sit down on a fallen log, Elrohir examined him quickly for new injuries, and then helped Elladan with Legolas.

"Dan really, it is not that bad. I just sprained my shoulder a bit, really."

Elladan snorted, "If you call that sprained, then what does a broken shoulder blade look to you?"

Legolas was spared an answer, as Elrohir used that moment to step up to them, "How bad is it, Dan?"

"It is broken. A clean break from what I can feel, but broken nevertheless."

Legolas sighed, and then stared at the ground in defeat while the twins prodded and poked his exposed shoulder. Not only that it hurt, but it hurt fiercely. Every time one of the twins touched his shoulder, a jolt of hot pain raced down his side and arm, making him clench his teeth to keep quiet.

Valar, it hurt. After what seemed like an eternity, Elrohir stated, "Aye, definitely broken. Legolas, you will not be able to use that arm for quite some time. The bone will need time to heal. But I am sure as soon as we are home, ada will be able to give you something to heal faster.

"Alas, for now we can only bind your shoulder, strap your arm to your chest so as to make sure that you won't aggravate the injury, and give you something for the pain."

Another sigh escaped Legolas lips, but he had known that his shoulder was broken the moment he had felt the horse trample him. To hear it now from the twins, made him only feel worse.

Lifting his head and flinching at the pain the movement caused, he looked around. "With what do you want to bind it? Our provisions have just run away."

Elrohir stared at him for a moment or two, and then cursed softly under his breath. Of course! They had loaded their provisions, or most of them, onto the humans' horses to relief their own. They all knew there was no way they would be able to catch the horses; they would be long gone by now.

Looking around the area, Elrohir saw Elladan's horse stand between the high trees, almost lost in the darkness that had settled; the horse had returned after it ran away, but Legolas horse was nowhere to be seen.

"This trip is getting better and better." Elrohir murmured, before he simply took out his knife and began to cut his cloak into long strips. With them they bound Legolas injured shoulder, secured his arm to his chest, and then cleaned the various scratches they had all received.

When they finally helped Aragorn onto Elrohir's horse and Legolas mounted Elladan's, night had fallen completely, the moon veiled behind thick grey clouds.

"And now?" Elladan asked.

Elrohir sighed wearily, "I think we should make for the ruins and rest there for the night. Perhaps tomorrow we find some sign of Legolas's horse and can retrieve it, but there is nothing we can do tonight."

And with that, they set out into the night, Aragorn and Legolas riding, while the twins guided the horses through the dark forest. They gave the thicket into which the bear had vanished a wide berth, and it took them nearly two more hours to reach the ruins.

Exhausted, in pain and quite depressed at the moment, they set up camp and waited for the night to pass. Aragorn and Legolas soon fell asleep beside each other, but the twins sat for many long hours, staring into the night and wondering how they should ever make it alive towards Imladris, now that they had neither enough horses, nor provisions.

Tbc…

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**So, what do you think? Do you like it? I would love to know. I will try and post the next chapter next friday, but I am visiting some friends next weekend, and I do not know whether there will be time to do so. But I'll try. Promise! And...reviews make me post faster. ;)**

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	27. 26 Unsettling Revelations

**A/N: Another unbetaed chapter, I fear. But I think the next one will be betaed. Please keep in mind that English is not my native tongue. I sent out the review3 replies a few days ago, but two came only yesterday, so I will try to answer them today.**

**And yay, I managed to post friday! I am a gooood girl... ;)**

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"_On a long journey of human life, faith is the best of companions; _

_it is the best refreshment on the journey; _

_and it is the greatest property."_

_(Buddha)

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_

Chapter 26: Unsettling revelations

Groaning softly as his back told him in no unclear terms that it did not like sitting in a saddle for days, Gandalf stemmed his hands in his back, trying to relieve the cramped muscles. When his spine only cracked a few times but the pain did not lessen, he sighed dejectedly, murmuring under his breath,

"Humph, why not as an elf? Or even a young human? But no, it 'had' to be as an old man."

Once again mumbling over the injustices that had brought him to Middle-Earth in the body of an old man, instead of an elf as he had been ages ago for a time, Gandalf took a look around. For days he had travelled though parts of Arda that were not even mentioned on most maps, and now he had finally reached his destination.

From what he could see, the village that lay in a depression not far from where he had stopped his horse, looked even more desolate and run down than the last time he had been here. Most of the houses seemed deserted, the main street was muddy and littered with waste and garbage. The wooden fence that surrounded the village was broken and rotten; it would neither stop orcs or other foul creatures from entering the village nor serve as a protection from the winter winds.

Sighing once more, Gandalf patted his horse on the neck, "Stay here, boy. I'll be back soon." And with that, he wrapped his long grey cloak around his shoulders, hiding his sword from view, leaned his weight onto his staff in a show of old age, and set out towards the village.

The day was cold and grey, the sky laden with clouds that were full of snow. So far, the winter had been rather lovely, with sunshine and crisp mornings, but in the last few days the temperatures had fallen drastically. With the clouds, the temperatures had ascended a bit again, but still Gandalf felt the coldness seep into his bones and lungs.

Huffing and muttering something about a certain Valar under his beard, the old Istar slowly neared the village. Nothing stirred inside and the gate that should have been guarded was standing wide open. It reminded Gandalf of the gaping mouth of a dead man, and he banished the image with a shake of his head.

Once inside, Gandalf made his way slowly up the main road. He could clearly see that the road had not been taken care of; deep prints showed where wagons had rode or horses stood, and the mud had frozen to create dangerous edges and hollows.

Stepping around the hollows and the garbage, Gandalf passed houses with barred windows and locked doors, dark alleyways that hid more than only some forgotten crates or carts, and was not surprised to see a dead dog lying near the front porch of a burned down house, obviously starved.

This village was as dead as this poor dog, he mused sadly. He could still remember the town from his former visit. Given, the village had been poor and desolate back then, but there had still been people living here, humans that had tried to make a living and to raise children, to sell their goods or find work on a daily basis. Now, nobody who lived here had any interest in keeping the town alive.

A gust of cold wind whipped past Gandalf and made his long beard fly around his face. Stopping in his tracks, Gandalf looked around carefully. He had almost reached the end of the street, and so far he had not seen one living being. It seemed as if all life was missing from this place: there were no chickens or cows, cats or dogs. No birds, mice, or anything that indicated that someone –something- lived in this desolate and forgotten village.

Staring at the houses around him, Gandalf felt his hope diminish. Had it been a fools hope to come here? Had he come in vain? It had been long ago that he had last been here and seen the old and ancient books the herb master had in his house; what told him that the man was still alive? And if he was indeed still living, what chance was there that this man still lived in this village?

Another gust of cold wind brought the smell of rotting flesh to Gandalf's nose and he shuddered inwardly. No, he did not want to know where that smell came from. He really did not want to know…

Giving the houses at both sides of the road some long looks, he finally resumed his walk. He had already spotted the house the old herb master had lived in all those years ago, but it looked even worse than most of the others. The wooden walls were grey with age and here and there the planks spotted gaps and cracks. The few windows were barred with planks, as was a huge hole in the roof.

From the other gap in the roof, the one that was used to let the smoke from the fires escape, no smoke could be seen, and Gandalf already feared the worst. The night had been cold, as was the day. If someone still lived here, surely he would lit a fire to keep warm.

Nevertheless, Gandalf had come on a mission, and he would not go ere he had made sure that he found no help here. Even if that meant that he had to break into the house and look for himself if the man had taken all his books with him.

But before he would be forced to such drastic measures, he had still other options. Gripping his staff tightly and leaning more heavily on it, Gandalf stepped up towards the old door of the house and knocked soundly.

Taking a step back, he waited. The seconds ticked by and nothing stirred inside the house. After a few long moments, he knocked again, but still nothing happened. A frustrated sigh wanted to escape Gandalf, but he suppressed it.

_/Three is the magic number…/_

For a third time he knocked, even louder this time, and when he leaned away from the door, he could suddenly hear something. There…footsteps! Someone had to be inside the house! With a voice that sounded as old as he pretended to be, Gandalf called, "Hoy! Open up good man, for I have business for you."

While on his way to this Valar forsaken village, Gandalf had decided to behave as an old and weak man to garner the trust of the herb master and to avoid conflict from the townspeople. For, who thought that an old man possessed any valuables?

For long minutes Gandalf waited, and when still nothing happened, he stepped up to the door and called again, "Open up, good man, for I have gold to…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the door was thrown open, a hand reached out, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside, before the door was slammed shut and heavily locked and barred from the inside.

Gandalf could barely see inside the dimly lit room, and when he gazed upon the person who had opened him, he had to suppress a surprised exclamation. He could clearly remember the appearance of the man from their last encounter, but the man who now shuffled towards the other end of the room looked anything but the man he remembered.

This man was much thinner, almost as thin as a young tree; his hair, once brown, was grey and so greasy that it was plastered against his skull. The hands looked gnarled like the roots of an old willow, and the exposed skin looked sickly and grey.

But, it was the same man, there was no doubt in that. Taking a few steps into the living room, Gandalf took a good look around. The shelves along the walls that once had been filled with boxes, bottles, candles, herbs, powders and potions were empty, as was the wooden table that stood in the middle of the room.

There were no scales or cups full of leaves or herbs, no kettle brewing over the fire and no papers or scrolls lying around, ready to be filled with secret potion ingredients. No, the room looked empty, the only thing that gave it a touch of inhabitation were the few packs that stood in one corner.

Dust had already settled on the floor and the shelves, and when Gandalf stepped up towards the table, he could see that he man who lived here had not used the table for a very long time. Long enough at least for a colony of black spiders to built a nest in the angle between table and leg.

Focusing on the thin man who stood on the other side of the table and eyed him warily, Gandalf said politely, "Thank you for letting me enter, it is rather freezing outside." 'And inside', he added inwardly. Indeed, there was no fire blazing in the hearth, and the only light came from a few flickering candles that stood on the mantelpiece of the hearth.

"W- well, I a-assume he send y-you?" The voice of the man sounded hoarse, as if he had not used it in quite a while.

A bit confused, Gandalf answered, "No, no-one send me. I am here because…"

"He did not send you?" The man interrupted, his eyes suddenly a shade brighter. With a gnarled hand he wiped the sweat from his brow and then wiped it through his greasy hair.

"No, no-one send me." Gandalf repeated. "I am here because…"

"No! I make no business with you. If he did not send you, then I will have nothing do you with you. Go!"

It was as if the old, fearful man had vanished the instant he had heard that Gandalf was here out of his own free will, only to be replaced by an unfriendly, unbending man who wished for nothing more than for Gandalf to leave.

Shuffling to the door, the man gestured for the wizard to follow him, and he had already reached the door and unlocked it, when he noticed that Gandalf had not followed him. Gazing upon the Istar unfriendly, he said harshly, "I do not have any business with you. Go."

But Gandalf did not go. Instead, he straightened his shoulders a bit and said in a deep voice that made quite clear that he would not leave, "As I said, I came here to buy something from you. And to ask for your opinion in a matter concerning some poison."

Slowly, the fear crept back into the man's face, and for a moment he eyed the door so intently that Gandalf feared he would simply run out of the house and flee. But then, he closed the door slowly, locked it once more, and shuffled back inside the room.

His shoulders were hunched and again he looked older than his age. With a weary sigh, he mumbled something under his breath that Gandalf could not understand, and then looked up at the wizard with tired eyes.

"Poison? I do not know anything about poison. I make teas for the body, refreshing and healing."

"Of course you do." Gandalf gave the man a sad smile. "Nevertheless, I would like to know what you think about this." And Gandalf told the man about the symptoms the twins had shown, of course without telling him anything about the twins being elves, or the fact that they suspected that Aragorn had been poisoned as well.

The man seemed to think for a moment, but then he shook his head, "That does not sound like poison to me, rather like a normal illness."

"But it is poison." Gandalf insisted.

But the man shook his head, "No, that is no poison I know of. If I were a poison maker of course", he added hastily.

Then the man turned around towards the cupboard in his back and began to rummage around in one of the drawers, mumbling, "Well, if the victim showed severe pain to the stomach, numbness and weariness, that could be poison…"

Sighing, Gandalf tried to think of something to say while he watched a rather large black spider crawl over the table and then vanished in a crack in the wood.

"B-but have you not said something about buying something?" The thin man stopped rummaging in his drawer, and Gandalf had the feeling as if something was seriously wrong with this man. One moment he was scared to death, and the next he was behaving as if Gandalf was the friendly neighbour from next door.

Nodding, he replied, "Aye indeed. I know that you once had a great collection of books about herbs and potions. I would like to buy them."

"I do not sell my books."

"I have gold to pay with."

But the man was already on his way across the room towards his packs, and now Gandalf could tell that they were filled with clothing, satchels and all the things the man seemed to possess.

Rather gruffly, the man answered him, "I need no gold. I have enough gold. You cannot buy everything with gold. But…" the man straightened from his pack and gave Gandalf a curious look.

"You do not happen to have a horse to sell, have you?"

Raising an eyebrow, Gandalf answered with a question of his own, "Would you sell me your books for a horse?"

"Maybe. If it is not an old and lame animal."

But from the glimmer that had entered the man's eyes, Gandalf could tell that the man would even sell him his books, had Gandalf only a donkey to offer. And it was no wonder; in a village such as this, positioned near the ruined Tharbad and with no other town around for leagues, it was difficult to get a horse. And from what Gandalf could tell, this man wanted to leave this town as quickly as possible.

Moving a hand through his grey beard, Gandalf eyed the man thoughtfully. He had a horse and he could sell it, but what if he found the cure in the books? He would never get back to Imladris in time to help the twins and Aragorn should he be poisoned as well. No, there had to be another possibility.

Leaning more heavily on his staff, Gandalf murmured lowly into his beard, but well aware that the other man would hear him, "I have a horse, aye. But to sell it perhaps in vain…I have not even seen the books yet. It will take time to skip through them, aye. Hm, I would need some reassurance that I will find what I need."

As he had hoped, the old potion maker piped up from the other side of the room, his voice hesitant but clearly interested, "Perhaps I could help you find what you are looking for. Tell me more of that poison. It…it would go quicker than searching the books."

Lifting his head in fake surprise, Gandalf scratched his chin, "What? Oh, well yes, if you would be so kind. As you are not that familiar with poisons, I mean."

"Oh." The thin man looked alarmed now, knowing that his own words caught up with him. Gandalf could almost see his mind racing, but in the end the man decided that he would get along best if he told Gandalf what he wanted to know, stopping his pretence of being only a herb master and not a poison maker. After all, he would never get that horse if Gandalf did not believe his words. And searching his books would take time.

Taking a few steps towards the Istar, the man moved a hand through his greasy hair, "Well then, tell me what you know of the poison, and I will tell you what I think. I need details. When did the first symptoms appear? How many are infected exactly? Any enemies? You know, my clientele is strewn over the lands wide and far, perhaps you are speaking of one of my own mixtures. In that case I can of course not tell you who ordered the poison, but for the horse, I could perhaps tell you how to fight the venom. If it is not too late already."

And in a hasty afterthought he added, "But, I sold them legally. It is not my fault if someone uses them. If they do not get them from me, someone else will sell them a poison. It is all business. Oh and I have retired, yes."

Nodding and giving the thin man a wistful smile, Gandalf moved towards one of the chairs that he had spotted leaning against the other side of the room. "Of course, it is all business. So, you do not mind if I smoke, do you?"

He took out his pipe and some weed, settled down in the chair that creaked dangerously under his weight, and retold his tale, this time with more details. The old potion maker bobbed his head from time to time, his hands fiddling with the hem of his tunic, and when Gandalf finished, he shook his head sadly.

"No, no I am sorry. That is not one of mine. Or, at least not exactly."

Puffing his pipe and waving at the grey cloud of smoke around his head, Gandalf asked curiously, "What do you mean, 'not exactly'?"

--oOo--

The first thing Legolas became aware of when he awakened, was pain. That in itself was not unusual, but it took him a moment to remember why he hurt exactly, and what had happened. When he remembered, his eyes became focused and he gazed around.

It was still gloomy, the night only slowly relinquishing its hold over the forest. A few moments later, he could make out the sleeping form of Aragorn close to him, wrapped in the usual blankets, using what looked to be Elladan's cloak as a pillow. Aragorn seemed to sleep peacefully, and Legolas felt a jolt of relieve surge through his stomach.

He clearly remembered the way his friend had fallen from the horse, or how he himself had thrown the young man to the hard ground to prevent him from being trampled by the horses. Speaking of horses…

In the gloomy darkness, Legolas sat up slowly. Supporting his weight against the stone wall of the ruins at his back, he examined his arm. The twins had wrapped the shoulder and stripped his arm to his chest to keep it immobile, but that apparently did nothing against the pain that surged through his shoulder blade, down his arm and right into his fingertips.

Grimacing a little, he slowly moved his hand across the arm and then touched his fingers gently. The whole arm was feeling cold to the touch, and his fingers looked even a little blue. Biting his lip, Legolas tried to move his fingers and to his utter relief they moved; but it was hardly painless.

Taking a deep breath, Legolas moved his hand towards his wrapped shoulder and began to massage the muscles gently. Of course, as soon as he touched the shoulder, a fiery pain shot down his arm, but he ignored it and instead rubbed the muscles a bit stronger. It was not the first time he had broken his shoulder blade, but the other times, he had been in a healing wing rather fast, with pain reducing herbs, his own personal healer, and a battalion of other healers ready to assist him.

He knew that he should keep the shoulder cold for the first few days to reduce the swelling and help the nerves in his muscles to calm. After that his shoulder would need some warm poultices or bandages to help the pain and quicken the healing.

But out here…

With a sigh, Legolas closed his eyes and rested his head against the stones in his back, while resuming to massage his shoulder. The pain was only slowly decreasing, and he knew that it would take a long time for the stiff and cold muscles to relax.

While he sat in the darkness, Legolas could not help but let his thoughts wander.

_/It had to be my right shoulder, of course, not the left. Why is it always the right shoulder/_

Another small sigh escaped him, and he slid down the wall a bit. The last time he had broken his shoulder had been when a warg had deemed it funny to slam him into a tree, and it had been his right shoulder who had broken the fall. Literally.

It had taken him weeks to heal completely, despite his elvish blood and healing abilities. With trepidation Legolas thought back on the many physical treatments he had been forced to undertake; stretching, massaging, rolling his shoulders, muscle training…

Not to mention the many hours of archery practice he had needed before he had been up to his old strength and accuracy. It is simply not fair, he thought glumly. Why can't it be my left shoulder for a change?

For long minutes he sat in silence, thinking about all the things he would have to undergo until his shoulder had healed. The sun rose in the sky behind the stormy clouds that had gathered in the night, and when he heard the first muffled chirps of the Snowcrows that lived in the firs close to the ruins, he knew that it was time to move on.

As stealthy as he could, he moved around the still sleeping Aragorn and made his way to the crumpled opening in the stone walls, from whence he could now hear the silent voices of the twins. Wondering for a moment whether the twins had slept at all and dismissing the thought as he knew the answer was a clear 'no' anyway, he exited the ruins.

Mist clung to the firs and swivelled around the ruins. In the dim morning light, Legolas got his first good look at the remnants of buildings they had camped in. Once, this must have been some kind of watchtower; the stonewalls rose high into the sky, although the topmost had collapsed many years ago. Huge hewn stones and rocks were strew across the place, deep furrows in the forest ground indicated where walls had once been.

Ivy and lichens covered the ruins, and here and there Legolas could see the remnants of swallows' nests high up the walls. Letting his keen eyes take in the surroundings, he saw that a huge amount of yarrow grew between the ruins and wondered whether this tower had been destroyed in a fire. The forest looked rather old, but that did not mean that a fire had not raged here aforetime.

A chilly morning breeze made him shiver and he drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he made his way over to the twins, who sat on a low stone wall, heads together and talking softly.

They had not kindled a fire the night before, and frost covered the hems of their cloaks, their faces were pale, and their hair damp. But being elves, the cold would not affected them as it did mortals, and neither of the twins said anything concerning that matter. Sitting down beside them and immediately feeling the coldness of the stones seep through his trousers, Legolas greeted them and soon they talked about what they would do this day.

"What about your shoulder, Legolas? Does it hurt much?" Elrohir asked concernedly.

"No, not really. It could be much worse, but the bandages and the cold help the swelling. It should not bother me much." That was of course only half of the truth; the cold did indeed help with the swelling, but hurting it did nevertheless.

Looking around, Elladan commented, "We could use some of the yarrow to brew a tea to help with the pain, but other than that I fear we can do nothing more."

The other two nodded and then Elladan added, "Legolas, do you think your horse is still around?"

Sighing, Legolas grimaced a little, "Ah, I do not know. It is very loyal to me, but on the other hand it never bolted before, so I do not know. But it is worth a try."

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear, he whistled loudly. To the twins it was such a harmonious sound, that they stared at their friend for a moment in surprise. They knew of course that the elves of Mirkwood used birdcalls as signals, but the whistle Legolas had just used to call his horse, sounded very different from those calls.

Again Legolas whistled, even louder this time, and then he sat back a bit. "If he heard me, he will come. But I fear he will be too far gone by now."

"Uh hu." Was all Elladan managed to say, and Elrohir broke the silence via clearing his throat, "So, any ideas what we shall do now?"

Sighing, Elladan shrugged his shoulders, "We still have three horses. Of course, that crazy Gondorian will ride his own steed, I have no wish to force him to walk, not with this leg injury he has."

Legolas nodded, "And Estel should ride one of your horses. He is not fit to walk."

The twins nodded as well, and then Elrohir added, "Legolas, I think you should take the third horse then. You are injured and walking will hurt you even more."

But Legolas was already shaking his head, "No, it will not hurt while I walk. One of you should ride."

"Why do we not all ride? I thought you elves pride yourself for being light?"

As one the three elves turned around, and Legolas snapped his head around so fast that he could hear his neck crack.

"Estel! You should be asleep!"

The man gave the surprised elves a weak grin while he made his way slowly over to them, bracing himself against the ruins to keep his balance, "With all that loud chatter going on?"

Elrohir, who hurried to Aragorn's side to help him walk over to them, put on a mock hurt face, "Loud? We are not loud, brother."

"Humph, I am sure every dwarf under Caradhras could hear you."

"Estel!" Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas said simultaneously, causing Aragorn to chuckle softly.

Easing himself down onto the wall in the place where Elrohir had been sitting only moments prior, Aragorn took a deep breath of the chilly winter air, and then gazed at the grey sky that was gradually lightning.

"I think we could get the first snow today."

"Well, I hope not." Elladan commented, and then turned towards his foster brother, "How do you feel, Estel?"

"Ah, not worse than yesterday evening. What about you?" Aragorn gave his brother a quick scan. After all, Elladan had been thrown from the horse as well.

"Oh, I am fine, do not worry Estel." Elladan answered with a wave of his hand.

"Aye," Elrohir piped up, "His skull is as thick as a troll's and his bones as hard as a dwarf's."

"Hey!"

But Aragorn and Legolas were already smirking, and Elladan mumbled something under his breath that sounded rather unelvish, before he clapped his hands together, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Estel, what was that about us all riding?"

Trying very hard to hide his smirk and at the same time ignoring the various pains in his body and the cold air, Aragorn gestured towards the three horses that stood close to the ruins, "Well, we have three horses, right? One for Dagnir, one for you and Ro, and one for Legolas and me. Or a different combination, if you rather ride with me or Legolas."

Elladan shook his head slowly, "It would tire the horses too much if we all ride."

But Aragorn did not surrender that quickly, "We are only two days from home. The horses are strong and healthy. If two of us walk, it will take even longer to get home, and I am sure ada is already deeply worried."

Elladan gave his twin a quick look, and when Elrohir shrugged his shoulders, he nodded in defeat. "Very well. I will ride with you again, and Ro can ride with Legolas. And no, Legolas," he added when he saw the prince start to protest, "You cannot ride with Estel. You are injured yourself."

Closing his mouth again and glaring at the older twin, Legolas huffed, and then fell silent.

"Good, that is settled then. I will ready the horses." And with that, Elladan got up and moved over to the horses. Elrohir watched him go and then gave the ruins another long look.

"You know," he said after a moment, "this was a watchtower once. Built by ages ago, even before the Last Alliance."

"Who destroyed it?" Aragorn asked curiously.

"No-one knows. Perhaps it was simply abandoned at one time, or orcs or other foul creatures destroyed it. It was already in ruins when ada came here."

"Then it has to be really old." Legolas let his gaze travel over the grey stones and for a moment he thought to see tall humans walk among the ruins, but the image faded as quickly as it had come.

"Nothing can last forever," Aragorn said. "No matter how strong the walls, or how skilled the protectors, in the end everything will fall to ruins and be forgotten."

Elrohir and Legolas gave Aragorn a strange look, but he did not seem to notice but gazed at the ruins around them. Before either of the elves could comment, though, Elladan returned with the horses.

"Ready?"

"Aye, brother." Elrohir helped Aragorn to his feet and then atop one of the horses, before he gave Legolas a hand up as well. For a second, though, Legolas eyed Elrohir's outstretched hand as if it was a poisonous snake, ready to bite him every moment. But then he sighed inwardly and let the twin help him atop the second horse. Where was the sense in ignoring the help of a true friend?

Soon, the elves and two humans had left the ruins behind them, riding under the tall firs and past some tiny rivers that were already covered in ice. The morning passed uneventful, and every now and then Legolas would whistle for his horse, but beside a family of badgers and a few squirrels they saw no other animals.

For the most time they all tried to ignore the muffled calls by Dagnir, who had spend the night outside of the ruins, and who was looking rather frozen. Aragorn had not commented when he had seen the bruises on the man's face this morning, but the guilty look Legolas had shot in his direction told him more than words ever could.

Whatever had transpired between Dagnir and Legolas, Aragorn was happy that Legolas had apparently won the fight. Not that Aragorn had expected anything else.

Around midday they rested near some evergreen bushes, using them as shelter from the cold wind that blew stronger by the hour. So far, no snow had fallen, but all being excellent woodmen, they knew that was only a matter of time. This winter seemed to be exceptionally cold and frosty; usually snow would not fall for some weeks in this region so close to the elven haven. Still, none of them could deny the heavy grey clouds or the smell of snow that lay in the air.

With most of their provisions gone, they had only some stale bread and a few hastily collected nuts for lunch, but Aragorn did not complain. Again, he was not very hungry, and to his dismay, one of the horses that had bolted had carried the pain reducing tea that Elrohir had brewed so that it was always available. And with no herbs to brew a new one, the pain inside his body had increased tenfold since the morning, stealing his hunger and good mood.

What was more, the constant riding aggravated his injured knee, and by now he began to truly fear for it. It was swollen and hot to the touch, pounding from time to time in the rhythm of his heartbeat. He could barely bend the knee at all, and the more he tried to ignore the thought, the more he feared that not even his father would be able to help him.

Shivering as a gust of cold wind played with his hair and sneaked under his cloak, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, how he wished to be home again, not out here in the cold, in pain and freezing.

"Estel?"

Snapping his eyes open and blinking a few times to clear his vision, he looked straight into Legolas's worried face.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right, mellon nin?"

Sighing and not even pretending to be all right, Aragorn shook his head, "No, I am not. What about you, does your shoulder hurt much?"

Legolas gave him a small smile, "Not as much as your injuries hurt, I am sure."

Silence settled over the two friends, but it was a rather comfortable silence. Another gale of chilly wind made Aragorn shiver, and without another word Legolas scooted closer, blocking some of the wind.

A few more minutes passed in silence, but then Legolas asked curiously, "Estel? Do you think the rangers will come looking for you? The twins told me Lord Elrond has send them a message."

Shrugging his shoulders and wincing slightly as the movement jarred his injured shoulder, Aragorn though for a moment before he answered, "I don't know, honestly. If the messenger bird reached them at all, then yes, I think they would perhaps send someone."

"Someone?" Legolas gave his friend a surprised look. "Surely they would send more than just 'someone'. A great search party, at least."

Aragorn gave a small chuckle, "Legolas, the numbers of Dunedain are dwindling, and the number of active rangers is falling even more so. There are not many of us left, and only a small handful is stationed near the Ettenmoors. Even if they want to help, there are not enough men, even less to spare for a mission as this."

"But Estel, I do not understand. You are … I mean you know who you are. Surely they would search for you." Legolas said in a low voice, as usual hesitant to openly say who Aragorn truly was. Dagnir was not sitting far from them, and although Legolas doubted the man could understand Sindarin, he would never risk anything.

To Legolas's surprise, Aragorn gave him a thoughtful look. "Legolas, the Dunedain have lived for nearly eighteen years without me. I have joined them only a few years back. The rules concerning leadership are quite simple, and should I not come back to them, I have made it clear who shall lead them. So far, I am not more important to the rangers than any other man."

"But…"

"No 'but', Legolas," Aragorn said seriously. "The lives of the rangers and their families are more important than the life of only one man."

Legolas gave him a strange look, but said no more. Aragorn knew that his friend was not agreeing with him, but what Aragorn had said was true. He had only recently, to Dunedain standard, taken over the leadership, and the Dunedain would have no problems returning to their old ways of leadership that they had adopted when his father had been killed, should he not return.

When Elladan piped up from behind them both, Aragorn and Legolas were both startled, having been unaware that their conversation had been overheard.

"Oh, I am quite sure Halbarad will come to your rescue, little brother."

"Oh yes," Elrohir added, "sometimes he is worse than we are."

"Nobody is worse than you two are." Aragorn said, but when the twins only raised their eyebrows and Legolas grinned knowingly, he sighed defeated. "Oh well, maybe he is a little overprotective from time to time."

"A little?"

"From time to time?"

The twins exchanged meaningful looks, and then Elrohir grinned wickedly, "Legolas, do you remember the hunting trip last year, when we all met with a group of rangers near the Misty Mountains?"

"Oh no, please, not _that _story again, Ro."

But the elf ignored the pleading look his foster brother gave him, and soon he was retelling the tale of how Aragorn had managed to fall into a group of some wild mountain goats, which had tried to spear him with their horns, and how Halbarad had jumped into the fray to save his cousin, therewith managing not only to anger the goats even more, but to set off a small landslide that had nearly killed them both.

When the twins and Legolas were finished laughing, Aragorn could not help but add, "Well, you were too afraid of the goats to help."

"Were not!"

"Whatever you say." Now grinning himself, Aragorn gazed from his smirking brothers and friend to the bound form of Dagnir. The white haired man looked at them as if he had understood what they had been talking about, but Aragorn shook that thought off. Surely the man was simply staring at him to see whether he was in pain, and not listening to their talk.

Too soon, they all mounted their horses again and set off towards Imladris. Aragorn was again riding with Elladan, while Legolas was sitting in front of Elrohir. The little light there had been grew dimmer as the hours passed, and by the time it was afternoon, it had become so dark that Aragorn had to strain his eyes to see the way.

To his dismay they had been forced to ride slower than usual, and had not covered as much ground as they had wished to. The horses were having problems picking their way through the frosty forest; the fall storms and early winter had caused many old trees to collapse and the ground had been cracked by the cold.

More than once they were forced to backtrack or take a longer route, because one heavy log or another was blocking the path. And with two injured and two tired riders, they did not risk riding at a canter. Although they were all used to days in the saddle, it was tiring to ride so slow, and the horses soon felt as tired as the riders.

They stopped again in the afternoon to rest the horses and make sure that they had not injured themselves while trampling through thickets or the underbrush, and Aragorn used the time to close his eyes for a moment or two.

He did not only feel tired and in a severe amount of pain, but he knew that the fever had returned. For the last few hours his eyes had started to burn and water, and he knew that it was not only from the cold or the wind. Furthermore, his entire body ached now, not only the parts that he had injured.

His skin hurt, his hairs hurt, yes even his teeth hurt. Not to mention the sharp pain right above his right eye, warning him of a severe headache that developed. He had not mentioned it to his companions, but for some time his kidneys had started to hurt as well, and he knew that it was not a good sign. Feeling tired and cold, he tightened his cloak around his shoulders and sighed warily. His thoughts had already wandered off to sleep without him noticing, when he felt a cool hand on his brow.

Opening his eyes sleepily, he saw Elrohir lean over him. His brother gave him a crooked smile, and then stated softly, "Your fever has returned, Estel. Why have you not said anything?"

Feeling too tired to come up with something insightful, Aragorn mumbled half-heartedly, "I forgot."

"Aye. I will see what herbs we still have. Rest a bit, Estel." And with that said Elrohir smoothed some hair from Aragorn's brow and turned to check their provisions for any herbs that they might still have.

Aragorn watched his brother's retreating back, before he closed his eyes tiredly. When the first fever chills set in a few moments later, he snuggled deeper into his cloak, ignored the pain in his knee and the dull pounding in his head, and soon drifted off into a feverish sleep, never noticing the worried looks the twins gave him, or that Legolas sat down close to him, spreading his own cloak over Aragorn in an attempt to keep him warm.

--oOo--

The small group of warriors that Glorfindel had taken with him had split into two parties; four warriors would search the South-East of Imladris, while the group he was leading was heading North-East. Any tracks that the twins might have left behind in their hurry to find their brother and Legolas had been blown away by the wind or been trampled my the forest animals, and so the group of three warriors and Glorfindel relied on their instincts alone.

They rode steadily towards the Misty Mountains, using an old hunting trail that would bring them quickly to their destination. Glorfindel had long debated which way to take, but he knew that the twins would most likely have used this one, as it was the shortest, although not safest route to the mountains.

The air was cold and biting; the horses' breaths misted before their faces and the forest ground was frozen.

_/There will be snow soon. I can smell it in the air. Oh, I hope we find them before it begins to snow. Even injured, the twins will not feel the cold much, but Estel…/_

Shaking his head to get rid of his disturbing thoughts, Glorfindel focused again on the forest around him. It was late afternoon of their first day of the search, and Glorfindel had no real hopes of finding a sign of the missing so soon. But still, that did not mean that he could let his thoughts wander…

Suddenly, the warrior who rode to his right lifted his hand in a gesture of silence and then stopped his horse. The animal pawed the ground impatiently, and then it flicked its ears and lifted its head.

Reining in his own steed, Glorfindel strained his ears and looked around with keen eyes. It took him only a moment to make out the sound that had alarmed his warrior: Hoof beats!

Feeling his heart jump into his throat, Glorfindel silently gave his warriors the signal to hide, before he himself jumped lightly from his horse and retreated behind some evergreen bushes. The elvish horses, all trained warrior horses, trotted quickly out of sight.

While he waited for the horses to appear, Glorfindel tried to figure out how many horses there were. He could hear…only one. Strange, he thought. The twins would not return without Estel or Legolas, and they would not abandon their horses. Only if…

But his thoughts were interrupted as the horse that they had heard broke through the bushes on the other side, and Glorfindel felt his heart constrict painfully. He knew that horse, oh, he knew it so well.

Whispering calming words, he slowly made his way over to the horse, noticing that his warriors had left their hiding places and were scanning the forest for other horses. None of the elves moved towards the horse, for they had recognized it too, and they knew that this horse did not accept any elf to approach it.

No, Legolas's horse was quite particular about that.

Glorfindel reached out his hand, with the palm up, and slowly neared the clearly agitated horse. Sweat was coating the body, the reins hung loose around its neck, and numerous scratches could be seen. None of them were serious, but they worried Glorfindel perhaps even more than seeing the horse without its rider.

Never looking the horse in the eyes, Glorfindel inched closer, and after a few moments of nervous sidestepping, the horse finally allowed the elf to touch it. Scratching the nose for a moment, Glorfindel spoke soothingly, "Good boy, good boy. All is well now, you have found us. All is well."

Circling the horse, he was relieved to find no traces of elvish blood, but what concerned him was the amount of provisions the horse was carrying. Upon closer inspection he noticed that most of the provisions belonged to the twins.

_/So they met Legolas. But why? Was he not supposed to cross the mountains? He should be in Rhovanion by now. Something must have happened that he has turned, come down the mountains and then met the twins./_

The horse snorted softly, and Glorfindel patted the sweaty neck absentmindedly. Looking into the forest, he could clearly see the path the horse had left behind; broken twigs and churned earth wherever he looked.

Having made his decision, he gestured for one of his warriors. Legolas's horse eyed the elf for a moment with swishing tail, but then it snorted and nuzzled Glorfindel's shoulder. While patting the huge head of the horse, Glorfindel gave his instructions, "Filgean, we will remove some of the provisions from the bags and put them on our horses. You will brush the horse down and then return it to Imladris and report our findings to Lord Elrond. Tell him that his sons and Prince Legolas are probably near, and… " Glorfindel faltered for a moment, and he closed with, "Tell him we follow the tracks and return with them as quickly as we can."

The other elf nodded and soon they had removed most of the provisions from Legolas's horse and repacked them on their own mounts. A cursory check of the healing provisions had deepened Glorfindel's worry, for most of the bandages and a great amount of healing supplies, mostly herbs, was missing, indicating that they had been needed to tend to someone.

With mounting worry Glorfindel and the other two warriors soon followed the tracks Legolas's horse had made. There was no doubt in their minds now that they would find their missing friends at the end of the track, but they feared the condition they would find them in.

Tbc…

**Woo hoo, another chapter. Gandalf and Glorfindel in one chapter! LoL. So, what do you think? Do you like it? Looks at readers Um well, now don't kill me for separating Legolas from his horse, please...LoL.**


	28. 27 Silence is golden

A/N: Gee, is it friday already? Really? Was it not only monday yesterday? Uhm...I need sleep. Anyway, I said I post end of the week, so here you are. Enjoy! Imaginigma :o)

_Elvish transaltions:_

_Daro: stop (that)

* * *

_

_"Yesterday is but a dream, tomorrow but a vision. But today well lived makes everyday a dream of happiness, and every tomorrow a vision of hope."_

_(Proverb) _

* * *

Chapter 27: Silence is golden

Gandalf had a hard time holding his temper in check. This man, he was…he was….pathetic! Aye, that was the word that described the potion maker best at the moment. How could that man…how dared he! And all for money!

Humans! Sometimes not even Gandalf understood why exactly IluvatatValar had seen fit to create them with their songs and thoughts. They were nothing but trouble. Work, worry and trouble!

Resisting the urge to pull at his own beard in frustration, Gandalf focused his thoughts on the problem at hand. After a lot of coaxing and even a healthy amount of threatening, Gandalf had made the man tell him everything he wanted to know.

Simply everything.

His fears that the twins had been poisoned had been confirmed, although he had been deeply frightened and worried that the poison had not been meant for elves,…but for Aragorn. The potion maker had told him the man who had ordered the poison had asked about elves, but he had been satisfied to hear that it would not affect them. And that left only one possibility open. Whoever had bought the poison had intended to poison Aragorn. It was the only possibility.

The question about the "who" had been pushed tostuffed the back of Gandalf's mind as he listened with growing sickness just what this venom was going to do to his friends. So much hurt, so much pain.

How could they live through this? With every word the potion maker relayed to him, his hope of finding his friends alive diminished. No one could survive a poisoning like this, not even the heir of Isildur himself.

And all because of revenge, revenge and money!

Taking a deep breath, Gandalf pierced the old potion maker with an intense stare. There was no point in pretending to be an old man anymore. He was angry and worried, and he would get the answers he sought.

"Is there an antidote?"

The potion maker nodded quickly, but then he shook his head at the same time.

Growling angryly, Gandalf rose to his impressive height, dwarfing the man who stood before him, "Aye or nay?" His booming voice made even the large, black spider scurry across the table and hide in a large crack.

"There…there is an antidote, b-but I gave it t-to the man who p-paid for the p-poison."

"But surely you can make some more?"

Sweat was running down the potion maker's face and he liftedrose a shaky hand to wipe it away. He swallowed nervously. "N-nay. I do not have the right ingr-ingredients."

"What do you need?"

--oOo--

The minutes ticked by, and the three elves knew that they had to make a decision. Imladris was not that far away anymore, if they hurried on, they would reach the Last Homely House by dusk the next day.

Speaking softly, so as not to wake the slumbering Aragorn, Legolas suggested half-heartedly, "One of us could take a horse and ride for help."

But the moment he had spoken, he knew the twins would not agree. Elladan shook his head and replied as softly, "Nay. It would slow the other three too much, as we cannot share a horse with three."

Elrohir asked quietly, "And what if the one who rides for help needs help himself? What if the poison attacks again?"

"I am not poisoned, I can go." As reluctant as Legolas was to leave his friends, if someone had to go, it should be him. But the twins shook their heads.

"No, Legolas. You are the only one of us who's not threatened by the poison and can keep a cool head." After a pause, Elladan added, "Well, most times, that is."

Ignoring Elladan's remark about his prior inability to not harm Dagnir, Legolas gestured towards Aragorn, "But he needs help. If the fever rises, even your father will be hard pressed to help him."

When Elrohir opened his mouth to protest, Legolas added heatedly, albeit in a whisper, "And don't tell me you have not seen the pain on his face. Or that his whole body jerked with every unsteady step the horse did."

The twins took deep breaths and then changed a quick look that made Legolas even more furious. Why had he the feeling that the twins were keeping something from him? Or that they treated him like an outsider?

Just when he was about to say something concerning his feelings, Elrohir nodded in Aragorn's direction. "We understand your concern, Legolas, but you have to understand that neither Dan nor I will leave Estel's side. And we think you should not go alone either, for you are injured yourself. What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing will happen, Ro. We are close to your home. There are no orcs or wargs in these woods, and neither are there giant spiders or trolls or other foul beasts."

Giving Legolas a long look, Elrohir asked softly, "And what if something happens to Estel while you are gone? What if he…" His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. "What if the poison attacks, leaving Dan and me helpless? What about Estel?"

This hit a very vulnerable spot, and for a moment Legolas simply gazed at the twins, unable to say anything. In his haste to get help, he had not thought about that possibility. Nodding slowly, he said softly, "Aye, now I see your point."

For a few moments neither of them said anything while they watched the slumbering form of Aragorn. Even from where they stood, they could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the pale skin was contrasting starkly against the dark hair.

A cold gust of wind made their cloaks billow, and Elrohir sighed heavily. "I think we should wake him and ride on. The sooner we get home the better. If the weather holds, we should be able to cover some more leagues before dusk."

"Will it not hurt him further?" Legolas asked tentatively. A grimace flittered over Elrohir's face. "I fear so, but waiting here will not help him either."

And with that, he crossed over towards Aragorn, gently shook his uninjured shoulder, and when the man blinked up at him with glassy eyes, Elrohir explained to him that they would move on.

Aragorn nodded sleepily, trying to give his brother a reassuring smile, but he felt too drained to do so. He simply sighed as deeply as his broken ribs allowed him and then tried to push himself off the ground. His arms gave way almost instantly, and even before Elrohir could intervene, he fell back to the hard ground, groaning in pain.

"Estel?" Fear swung in the voice.

"'m all right," Aragorn mumbled, but his head felt so dizzy and his arms so shaky that he was not sure if he had spoken out loud at all. Opening eyes he had not realized closing, he gazed up at the blurry form of his brother, blinking to get the shapes into focus.

When the shape looming above him sharpened for a short moment only to then frizzle at the edges and become blurry once more, he placed a hand over his eyes, blocking out the light. Dimly he was aware that Elrohir called his name, but there was suddenly such a ringing in his ears that his brother's voice sounded muffled.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn moved his hand away, squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, blinking in rapid succession. The worried face of his brother loomed over him for a second or two, but then the blurriness returned full force, making him sick to the stomach.

Moaning softly, he rolled to his side, trying to will the sickness away. For a long moment he breathed with the strange feeling in his stomach, trying to think of something else than his current predicament. It worked…for the moment.

When Elrohir placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, worried that maybe the poison had attacked him again, his stomach made a very painful somersault, only to then slam back. Gasping at the sickness and pain, Aragorn curled into a tight ball, hoping to fight the sickness before he would give in.

Seeing his brother in pain and obviously sick, Elrohir turned to his older brother and Legolas, "We need to do something. Legolas, start a fire."

"Ro…" Elladan began hesitatingly. Seeing his brother in pain made his heart thud wildly in his chest, but he knew they needed to reach Imladris as soon as possible. If not sooner.

"No, Dan, he needs help now. We will ride through the night if need be. But right now, I want Legolas to get a fire going, and you go and try to find some hawthorn. It might help his stomach and his fever."

Giving his brother a stern look for good measure, Elrohir watched for a second as Elladan rushed into the forest, and Legolas already knelt a few yards away, kindling a fire. Nodding in satisfaction, Elrohir focused his attention on his sick brother once more.

With worry he saw and heard that Aragorn's breathing was way too quick. The air hissed through his teeth, and his chest heaved with the effort to breathe in enough air and at the same moment battle the pain that he undoubtedly felt every time his broken ribs poked against his skin.

"Estel? Brother, calm down. What is it, is it the poison?"

A weak shake of the dark hair was the only answer he got, and when Aragorn continued gulping down air and starting to tremble slightly, Elrohir felt tears prick at his eyes. Days, no weeks, of continued strain, worry and helplessness tried to break through, and he took a deep steadying breath to calm his nerves.

Now was not the time to break. His brother needed him! Swallowing thickly and finding his emotions tether at the edge of breakdown, Elrohir took another deep breath. Then another and another, and when he felt the painful hot prick behind his eyes decrease, he snuffledand sighed deeply. No, now was not the time to break down; later, when they were at home and all was well again, then he could give in to his emotions. Not sooner. Right now, Estel needed his help.

Beginning to rub Aragorn's back in soothing circles, just as he had done when he had been a small boy, frightened by nightmares that the would not tell about, Elrohir murmured soothingly, "Shh, Estel, all will be well. Try to breathe calmly. One after the other."

He could tell that his brother tried to do as he told him, but seemed unable to do so. A shudder raced down Aragorn's spine, so strong that Elrohir could feel it even through the clothing and the blanket.

"Estel, please, how can I help you?"

"Can't." Aragorn's voice was barely above a whisper, and Elrohir knew that it had cost his brother much to say the single word. Pain laced the exclamation as well as barely controlled emotion.

Taking another deep breath, Elrohir removed his hand from his brother's back, not sure whether he was making things worse or not. But Aragorn's soft voice reached his ears only moments later. "Don't stop. It helps."

Giving his brother a small sad smile, Elrohir settled down more closely and resumed his rhythmic and steady circles, glad that he could at least help his aching brother a little bit. Even if he did not know what was going on and why Aragorn's condition had deteriorated so quickly.

For that matter, Aragorn did not know what was going on himself, but he had a good idea. He felt the fever that had prowled at the edges of his consciousness finally leap forwards, attacking his already weak body. His kidneys seemed to have swelled to the size of rocks, making his entire lower back hurt.

Luckily, the dizziness that had been caused by his fever and that made his stomach sick had receded a bit, and already the sickness decreased. As long as he lay still and did not move, he would not trigger his stomach again. But, that did not help the pain that engulfed him anew. His attempt to stop the pain in his stomach that had made him curl into a ball had made him forget his numerous other injuries.

His shoulder hurt terribly, followed by his ribs, but that was not his main concern at the moment. No, where his shoulder hurt, his knee was in agony. It hurt so much that it stole his breath right out of his lungs.

Valar, he never knew how much one single body part could hurt! The warmth of Elrohir's hand and the familiar soothing movements helped his mind to relax somewhat, and he was glad for the contact. Without it, he was not sure if he would not have succumbed completely to the pain.

Aye, he thought with sudden clarity, his brothers and Legolas were the only reason he was fighting the pain at all. Had they not been there, he knew he would have given in to the pain and the nightmares long before now.

Oh, he would have fought, but not that long or that strong willed. He did not want his brothers and friend to see him suffer. No, he was strong, was he not? He was a ranger of the North, a son of Kings! Oh no, he would not give in, not if it meant letting his family see him lose the fight.

Gritting his teeth, Aragorn forced the pain back, fighting against wave after wave of shuddering agony. He did not know how long he lay on the cold ground, the breath hissing through his teeth in an attempt to handle the pain.

But after a while, he felt his fingertips tingle slightly, then stronger and stronger. Strange, he had not given the prickly feeling any thought before, and even now he did not really register the feeling. Then, his yaw began to tingle as well, then his lips and tongue.

What was going on here? It was the same feeling he knew from when he had fallen asleep in an awkward position and his arm or leg had fallen asleep. What was happening with him? Confused and even a bit scared, he opened his eyes and blinked against the blurry images.

The colours danced before his eyes, making his head spin, but he fought the urge to close his eyes once more. Swallowing and feeling his tongue go numb, he tried to get his brother's attention, "Lo?"

"Estel?" Concern swung in Elrohir's voice. Elrohir knew immediately that something was not right when he heard his brother try to say his name but fail. Leaning over without stopping his soothing circles, he glanced at Aragorn's face and had to suppress a gasp when he saw the paleness of the face.

Valar, even the lips were so pale!

Elrohir saw his brother swallow and then turn his grey eyes onto him. Aragorn's eyes were not able to hide his pain and…fear. Feeling his own heart jump into his throat and then resume beating wildly right against his Adam's-apple, Elrohir placed his other hand gently on his brother's cheek.

_/He is hot, the fever is stronger than I thought. Dan, hurry./_

"Estel? What is it?"

"Lo, …tingles…numb." Scared eyes turned on Elrohir.

"What is numb, Estel? Tell me." Elrohir really tried to steady his voice so that his own fear would not show through, but he knew he had failed miserably, the moment Legolas crouched down next to them, glancing worriedly at them both.

Aragorn gave his friend a quick look before he answered, "Hands, lips 'n tongue."

"Your tongue?" Now the near panic was clearly discernible in Elrohir's voice, and when he saw Aragorn's eyes widen, he quickly stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers.

"No, do not worry Estel. Do not become agitated, stay calm. Do you hear me, relax."

Elrohir let his eyes roam around the forest for a moment, hoping to see Elladan return, but when he neither saw nor heard his brother, he looked back at the still wheezing Aragorn. And then it hit him. Aragorn was breathing far too quickly and irregularly!

"Estel, listen. This is no new malice. It is your own body that fights you. Your breathing is too quick, and so you overload your body with air. That makes your hands tingle and your tongue numb. Do you understand? Calm your breathing, Estel."

Aragorn tried to take a deep breath, but he failed miserably as the sudden lack of air caused him to cough and then suck in the air hungrily.

"Shh, try again, Estel."

Once more, Aragorn forced his overworking lungs to breathe in deeply, and the sharp pain that erupted in his side told him that he had breathed in deeply enough to trigger his broken ribs. He winced, but then released the air he had been holding as slowly as he could. It was rather a shuddering breath, but it served its purpose.

Again and again he fought the urge to breathe in quickly and shallow, and after a few minutes his lungs had once more fallen into a regular pattern. The tingling in his hands and lips left, and a few moments later his tongue lost the numb feeling. Aragorn closed his eyes tiredly, feeling Legolas stroke some wayward hair from his forehead.

"Estel, is it better now?"

"Mh hm." It was all he managed to say before he fell into an exhausted sleep, leaving Legolas and Elrohir to look down on him with new fear and worry in their hearts.

--oOo--

Morgwath could not believe his luck. Already he had given up all hope over ever catching up with the elves and the ranger and that maggot Dagnir, seeing they had horses and he had not. Yes, he had been able to take back some of his provisions and even his dagger from his horse's saddle bags when he had been in the camp, but that did not help him moving faster, did it?

And then this glorious afternoon, the Valar had sent him a great present! Or some other force had, he did not really care. He had just stepped around a thicket of thorns, cursing under his breath, when the soft snort of a horse reached his ears.

And there, right before him, munching happily on some rather yellow grass, had been Hador's horse. And now, he was making good ground, speeding through the woods in the direction of the elven refuge. Oh, he would get his chance of killing Dagnir now!

He did not care why the horse had been alone in the forest, or why there had been no sign of the elves or the other horses. No, all that mattered now was that he caught up to the group he was trailing before they reached Rivendell.

Pressing his thighs into the horse's sides, he urged the animal to more speed. He had no time to tarry.

--oOo--

Night settled over the forest, but the heavy grey clouds barred the moonlight from reaching the ground, and so the shadows grew larger and darker until the whole forest was so dark that even the elves had problems distinguishing bush from boulder.

Elladan stirred the hawthorn tea they had made, careful to keep the substance in motion. This tea was wont to dry out and become a sticky, undrinkable paste. Sighing softly, he glanced towards his twin, who sat across from the small fire.

Elrohir looked as tired as he felt. Dark circles showed under his eyes, his hair was dull and dishevelled, the clothing torn and dirty. As if sensing Elladan's look, Elrohir lifted his head and gave him a weak smile and then shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "It is as it is". Nodding tiredly, Elladan resumed stirring the tea.

Aragorn's body was fighting the fever on its own, as he had yet to wake up. Elrohir had told Elladan all that had transpired while he had been away, and Elladan had been scared to hear that Aragorn had been so upset and tired that he had not even noticed his body's behaviour.

Oh, Elladan wished nothing more than to go home. For the first time in centuries, he really, desperately wanted his father to take over his responsibilities; he was so tired of worrying, of being afraid. He wanted…aye, to go home and crawl under his soft blankets and forget the cruelties of the outside world.

But, alas, he was grown up and of course that would not be possible. And furthermore, his brothers and friend needed him. Not to mention that he was poisoned himself and could die any moment. The thought only served to make his gloomy mood even darker, and he stirred the tea so forcefully that some of it spilled onto the ground.

Suddenly, a warm hand took the spoon out of his hand and when he looked up, he saw Elrohir smile at him weakly. "He will be well, Dan. And we will be well. You'll see, once we are home, ada will already have the antidote. More likely than not, we are worrying for nothing."

And Elladan nodded and smiled in return, but in his heart he did not believe his brother's words. No, it could not be that easy. Maybe Elrohir was the more emotional one of the two and had inherited their father's gift of foresight more strongly, but in this one moment, Elladan felt the darkness rising around and inside himself, and he knew that things would turn worse, before they got better.

And not even their father would be able to change that, he thought darkly.

Legolas shifted uncomfortably, but no matter what he did, his shoulder hurt fiercely. It pounded rhythmically with his heartbeat, and the skin felt hot to the touch. Sighing wearily, he used his good arm to tug some wayward strands of blond hair behind his ear and then adjusted the sling that held his arm in position.

Not only did his shoulder ache, but his arm itched. Perhaps it was because Elrohir had not used a bandage to help him, but some torn strips of dirty cloak. Whatever it had caused, his arm felt as if hundreds of tiny ants were scurrying up and down, their feet prickling his skin. Legolas had scratched the arm, lightly pounded on it, moved it, massaged it, even blown on it to cool it….with no effect whatsoever.

Well, he had made his arm hurt even more and garnered some curious looks from the twins, but other than that, nothing. Sighing in frustration now, Legolas settled back against a log, only to grimace in pain as a dry branch poked him in the back.

Leaning forwards again, he chanted under his breath, for the first time in his life loath to be in a forest. Oh, what he would give to be in Imladris already.

Suddenly, a soft chuckle reached his ears, and then the tired, but amused voice of Aragorn made him blush, "Oh, that I am granted to hear that. A Wood-elf who wants to exchange trees for feather pillows."

Determined to ignore the comment, Legolas bent towards his friend. "Aragorn, you are awake."

"Apparently."

"How do you feel, mellon nin?"

A sigh left Aragorn lips. "Hot. But I guess relatively well besides that."

"Good, that is good news." Legolas lifted his head to call out to the twins, but they already came closer, Elladan carrying the cup of hawthorn tea. They crouched down and while Elladan made Aragorn drink the tea, Elrohir felt his forehead and took a look at the bandages.

"No more bleeding, Estel, that is good."

Aragorn sighed deeply and his eyes closed. "No, Estel, stay awake. Come now." Elrohir patted his brother's cheek, and Aragorn tried to catch his brother's hand; he sounded tired and annoyed, "'m awake, Ro. 'm awake."

"Then open your eyes, Estel, if you are awake," Elrohir said gently.

For a moment nothing happened, but then Aragorn blinked his eyes open. When his eyes stayed open, Elrohir took his hands away and got to his feet. "I think it best if we leave now."

"In this darkness?" Legolas was not sure if he wanted to leave. It was not only dim, it was truly dark, and he feared for their horses.

"Aye, we need to reach home as quickly as possible." Elrohir gave Aragorn a quick glance, and Legolas understood the unspoken fear that Elrohir felt. They needed to leave now if Aragorn was to have any chance of surviving his injuries and the poison.

Legolas nodded. "Good. You prepare the horses and camp, I'll help Estel."

The twins nodded, and so they set to work. The fire was extinguished, the bedrolls packed away, the weapons adjusted on the backs, Dagnir was hoisted on his steed, and soon Elrohir was sitting behind Legolas, and Elladan was holding Aragorn in front of him on the horse.

Without a backwards glance, they left the campsite and set out into the night.

The horses moved gently, albeit slowly through the woods, their hooves almost silent on the needle carpet that littered the ground. With ease the steeds circled fallen trees and ragged rocks; they walked through high bushes and crossed a gurgling brook that was nearly frozen over.

Tired and feeling rather hot, Aragorn leaned back against Elladan's broad chest, and although his brother murmured in his ear to stay awake and shook him ever so gently, he could not help but fall into a slight slumber.

He was neither asleep nor awake; it was rather a state of drowsy slumber, and for a fleeting moment Aragorn asked himself if that was how the elves felt when they were asleep. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was riding on a horse through a dark forest, that he was injured and ill and poisoned, that he needed to stay awake and that he was not alone; but all these facts did not really register in his mind. No, in his mind, he dreamed.

Aragorn felt himself being swept away on a cold wind, up and up and away from his companions, across the lands and maybe even time itself. Suddenly, he found himself near a white cliff wall that rose and rose high into the sky right beside him.

The sun glinted off the stone and painted the cliff walls a vivid orange and lively pink. Was this really a dream? This feeling of foreboding that he felt…was it real? Aragorn took a look around, and suddenly he knew where he was. These were the cliffs that surrounded his home, that hid the valley of the elves from view.

Why would a dream bring him here? Just as he began to walk into the general direction of the pass that would lead down into the valley, a cold wind brushed past him. In that instant he knew that this was no dream. No, he had felt like this before, numerous times. This was a vision. Normally, they felt a bit different, not so clear but rather abstract and blurred, more feelings than pictures. But this, this had to be a vision.

Slowly, Aragorn turned around and when his gaze fell on the high cliff walls, his breath caught in his throat. No longer were the walls of a brilliant white with streaks of orange and pink, but they were shining in a deep red. Red as blood.

And the redness spread and spilled; it painted the cliff walls and the grass, the trees and the sky, and then slowly, the red crawled up his feet and legs, it painted his stomach and chest, his hands and arms, his neck…

"Noooooo!" Aragorn jerked awake, sweat on his brow and his whole body trembling. For a second, he did not know where he was, or when he was or why in the name of Eru someone was gripping him so tightly. He breathed raggedly, trying to move away from whomever held him, until suddenly a stern voice nearly shouted in his ear.

"Estel, daro!"

He stopped in his struggles, blinked a few times, and then his memories came rushing back. Relief flooded him, and he sank weakly back against his brother's chest. "Dan?"

"Aye, Estel. You dreamed. All is well."

"All is well," Aragorn repeated, closing his eyes. But the instant he closed them, he once more saw the bloody walls and the stained grass. Snapping his eyes open, he sat up straighter, ignoring his various pains and Elladan's hand that tightened around his middle.

Oh no, he did not dare to fall asleep again. No, that vision was too horrid to see again. Fighting the pain in his ribs and knee, Aragorn shifted a bit in the saddle, until he was rather uncomfortable. Hoping that it would keep him awake, he let his eyes roam over the dark forest.

Legolas was riding in the front, and Elrohir and Dagnir were close behind them. All was silent, and Aragorn now knew that he had not yelled out aloud, but only in his dream. Vision.

Taking a deep breath and wondering whether Elladan would allow him to shrug out of his cloak because it was too hot, he gazed into the darkness. What had the vision meant? What had it wanted to show him?

That death awaited him at home? That he would not survive this adventure? But why the metaphor then? So far, his visions had shown him what truly happened, in realistic scenes and emotions, not some red painted cliff walls.

Did that mean that it was not his death that awaited him at home? Had something happened to Imladris? What if the vision was not meant for him but showed him someone else's death or injury? What if…

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He could speculate as long as he wished, there was no way he would learn what the vision had meant to show him before it came to pass. Frustrated, in pain and too hot, Aragorn took a deep breath and let his eyes slowly unfocus, so that the trees around him were merely black blurs in a vast see of darkness.

He would worry about the vision when it was time to do so. Now, he needed to save his energy for the ride towards the only real home he had ever known. And as the horse snorted softly under him, the breath misting in the cold night air, the grey clouds that veiled the moon broke open, and tiny white snowflakes made their way down to earth.

--oOo--

Oh, this was just their luck, Legolas thought as he dismounted after Elrohir. Snow! Now, of all times, was really not the right moment for winter to decide to let it snow. It was too early in the season anyway. Normally, it would not snow here for at least another three weeks. So, why now!

Cold and in pain from his broken shoulder blade, Legolas took the horses reins and led the animal towards the small brook that glimmered between the thin tree trunks. He could hear Elrohir help Dagnir dismount, and for a short moment he relished the idea of seeing Dagnir fall from the horse, flat on his ugly face and right into a pile of horse dung.

This image was so wonderful that it took him a long moment to realize that the horse was not drinking loudly beside him, but giving him a reproachful look out of big brown eyes.

"What?" he asked perplexed. The horse snorted and then began to munch away on Legolas's cloak, or at least on the part that the horse managed to grab between its teeth before Legolas yanked his cloak away.

"Hey! Terrorizing trolls, what do you think you are doing?" And in a softer tone he chanted under his breath while he examined his cloak, "Stupid animal, eating my cloak, really."

The next moment he was face to face with the rather hungry looking horse. Taking a step back, he was surprised to not splash through ice-cold water as he had anticipated, but…stood on ice. The brook was completely frozen over. A hot blush crept up his neck to settle in his cheeks, and when he next looked at the horse, he could have sworn the beast looked smug.

Cursing under his breath, Legolas searched the forest ground, found what he was looking for, and soon had broken the ice surface with a rather large rock. The horse stepped towards the water and began drinking eagerly, tail swishing happily. Elladan joined him with the other two horses, and when he saw the red flush on Legolas's cheeks he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"What?" Legolas said irritably and then had to glance away as a smile pulled at Elladan's lips. Not pressing the matter, Elladan said conversationally, "We have not covered as much ground today as we hoped, but we can reach Imladris tomorrow night before midnight." He gave the sky a quick glance. "Well, if the weather does not get worse, that is."

Already the forest ground was covered with a low snow crust, and as the trees were leafless, the snow had no problems reaching the ground. If it resumed snowing as it did now, there would be a few inches of snow in the morning.

"How is your shoulder, Legolas?" Elladan asked with sincere curiosity in his voice.

Shrugging and regretting the motion immediately as pain spread down his arm and side, Legolas said rather indifferently, "Could be worse."

"Aye, could be. But it is bad enough as it is anyway. Perhaps we can find some pain reducing herbs so close to a stream. Even if they are long dead and frozen, some roots should still have some healing properties."

"Are you planning on digging in the frozen ground? With your bare hands?" Legolas asked mockingly.

"Uhm, well no. I have not thought about that," Elladan admitted and then gave Legolas a lopsided grin. "We could let Dagnir do the digging."

A grin spread over Legolas's face, and again the picture of the man falling nose first into a pile of horse dung appeared before his eyes. He nodded slowly. "Aye, we could."

Silence settled over the two elves, as both relished their own visions of making the human pay for what he had done. The horses gulped down the cold water, swishing their tails, quite unaware of the elves' thoughts.

Only a few yards away, Elrohir gave Dagnir a stern look, trying to put all his anger and hatred in that single look. When the man recoiled a bit, Elrohir bent down and wagged a finger in front of Dagnir's eyes. "One word, human, and you will be gagged again. Understood?"

Dagnir nodded, and when Elrohir removed the gag, he licked his dry lips and coughed a few times. With more force than necessary Elrohir held a flask of water to the man's lips and let him drink his fill, before he took the flask away to be replaced by some bread. As Dagnir's hands were bound behind his back for the safety of all, Elrohir helped the man eat. The disgusted look that stole over the elf's features could have shamed even a slobbering orc.

When Dagnir had eaten, Elrohir got to his feet and gazed into the direction Legolas and Elladan had taken the horses. In the darkness, the two were not visible between the tree trunks, and Elrohir could not hear them either. Slowly he noticed that they had been gone for some time now, and a flutter entered his stomach.

Aragorn's soft voice reached his ears, and Elrohir nearly jumped, so startled he was. "Go and check on them. They are gone quite long already."

"No, Estel, I will not leave you alone."

"Ro, I am no small child anymore. And…he is bound and stiff from days in the saddle. Nothing will happen."

Elrohir gave his brother a worried look, "Estel…"

"Ro, I will be fine. I will yell if something happens."

Giving Aragorn another long look, Elrohir sighed and then nodded. "All right. I will be back in a moment." And with a rather ugly look at Dagnir that threatened immediate punishment should he try something, Elrohir quickly vanished into the woods.

Aragorn gazed at the spot where his brother had disappeared, then sighed and shifted his position on the hard ground. No matter what he did, his legs and especially his knee hurt incredibly. Not to mention his fever and the many other scrapes and bruises, broken ribs and the burn that made his life so miserable.

The snowfall made the forest look brighter than it should be so deep at night. It was silent, aside from the occasional hoot of an owl and the scurrying of tiny paws over frozen leaves. It was so silent that Aragorn snapped his head around when Dagnir spoke.

"Still alive, are ye? Haven't thought you would survive so long."

"Disappointed?"

A heartfelt smile spread across Dagnir's face. "No, not at all. Where would the fun be if you had died right away? Nay, it is so much more fun this way, scum."

Anger welled in Aragorn, but he felt no fear. Lifting his chin in a defying gesture, he answered, "But you will not be the last to laugh."

"Oh, you think these elves will save your miserable life? Prolong it maybe, but in the end you will plead for mercy."

"You err, Dagnir."

"Do you think I would go to all those troubles just to let you walk in the end?" Dagnir licked his lips and then sighed in fake annoyance, "Really, scum, have you learned nothing from our last encounter? It was not my intention to let you live back then, and I never break my promises."

"A man such as you knows no honour."

Aragorn saw the angry flash in Dagnir's eyes even before the man spoke, "Honour, that is just a word. What would a mere ranger know of honour? Nothing! Thieves you are, the outcasts of towns and the scum of Middle-earth. I was once a Captain of Gondor, something that you would not even be in your wildest dreams. I served the Steward and my country. I was a loyal guardian of the City of Kings."

A snort escaped Aragorn. "Not so loyal, now, were you when you stole the money and tried to kill your subordinates. Tell me, do you really think the Steward would call that service to Gondor?"

Dagnir huffed and his face grew hot, "What do you know of the Steward, scum? Maybe the Steward did not approve, but the King, if we had one, would have listened to my every word."

A bit shocked, Aragorn stared at him. Taking this as a sign to continue, Dagnir spat, "The Steward is nothing more than an old man. He has the wrong priorities. But… the rightful heir of Isildur, he would right the wrongs of the Steward. Gondor would find to his old glory under his leadership."

Aragorn could not help himself but retort heatedly, "Isildur was weak, he had not the strength to cast away the ring, and it was his doom and the doom of mankind. Why do you think his heir would do better?"

Now it was Dagnir's part to look confused. Then, he took a deep breath and said agitatedly, "Of course, a mere ranger would not understand the great motives of Isildur. He was right to take the ring, and it was not the ring that betrayed him, but his own men. Had he not been killed by the orcs because his men left him in battle, he would have led all the Kingdoms to great wealth and glory. But of course, you as a ranger have to think as you do. You do not live in richness and splendour, and you blame it on him and not on your own weaknesses. Ha, all rangers are a disgrace to the Kings of olds."

Aragorn could not believe what the man had said, and somewhere in his mind he asked himself where the man had heard these untruths. But it was clear to Aragorn that Dagnir apparently believed in what he had said. And deep inside, some of the things Dagnir had said hurt, for they awakened old and long forgotten doubts.

"You know not of what you speak."

"Oho, but you do? I doubt that, scum. And it does not matter, you are dead already."

Aragorn eyed the man, and he could not help but see the superiority that Dagnir undoubtedly felt reflect in his eyes. What was it that gave this man such a belief in his own abilities? With a low voice, Aragorn asked, "There is no antidote, then?"

Dagnir made a tsk tsk sound and laughed. "Oh my little ranger, so naïve. Of course there is no antidote. If I have learned something from our last encounter, it is that the sort of you should get no second chances. You will pay for what you have done to me, scum, and I will get the payment…with interest."

"You will get nothing of the sort, Dagnir. I will get through this, and you will have to face your punishment. And when this is all over, you will be nothing more than a bad dream."

Dagnir's eyes glimmered evilly. "No, scum, I already am your worst nightmare. And when this is over, your death will be my most wonderful memory."

Just as Aragorn opened his mouth to answer, the sharp voice of Elladan interrupted the conversation. Aragorn had not even heard his brothers and Legolas return.

"Estel? What is going on here?"

Giving Dagnir a stern look, Aragorn forced his gaze away from the man and looked at his brother. His voice was controlled, but the elves, who knew him so well, had no problem to hear the slight tremor in it.

"Nothing, all is well, Dan."

"Mh, I see." And without another word, Elladan quickly made his way over to Dagnir and gagged the man, much to Aragorn's annoyance. Aye, he was glad that he would not have to talk to Dagnir any longer, but, on the other hand, the gesture seemed to underline his vulnerability.

It seemed Dagnir was of the same opinion, for he gave Aragorn a grin and a pointed look, before Elladan hauled the man to his feet and bound him to a tree, some feet away from the centre of the camp.

Legolas sat down next to Aragorn while Elrohir kindled a small fire, and Elladan took care of the horses. Trying to avert the elves' thoughts from the scene they had just witnessed, Aragorn asked nonchalantly, "So, what took you two so long, Legolas?"

"Oh, the horses were quite thirsty."

None of them knew what to say to that, and so stillness settled over the camp. A lone owl hooted somewhere in the darkness of the forest, and the only sound that filled the air was the crackling of the fire and the fall of the snowflakes on the dry leaves.

Tbc…

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So, here you are. Feedback would be nice, I am still starving...:D 


	29. 28 Under the Skin

**Beta:** Chris, wonderful Chris. I am so happy you are back. No more sleepless nights and nightmares about English grammar. -

This chapter is betaed except the last few pages. I was too slow in writing to send it to Chris in time.

**A/N:** I am soooo sorry, but this chapter is a tiny bit longer than your average chapter, well almost double as long. Enjoy!

**Warning:** If you have an aversion to bugs or insects, please take your comfy blanket, a bar of chocolate and a huge hot chocolate before reading. And turn the light on. ;-)

And, I think a higher rating is in order for this chapter.

**Rating **(for this chapter at least): T

* * *

_"I respectfully decline your invitation to join your hallucination."_

_(Scott Adams)_

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Chapter 28: Under the skin

For hours Gandalf had laboured together with the old potion maker to search through the packs and pouches, nearly emptied drawers and even some boxes that had been hidden under the floorboards. Now, the table was littered with herbs and powders, but the one main ingredient that Gandalf needed so desperately was not among them.

Sighing, Gandalf ran a hand through his hair. They had searched the whole house, and although the potion maker had not been sure that he still had some of the herb that he needed, they had not found it. Taking another deep breath, Gandalf eyed the other man for a moment before he pierced him with a stern look.

"You do not have the herb." It was a statement, no question.

"No, apparently not. I – I am sorry."

Thinking a moment, Gandalf scratched his bearded chin, "I know a great healer. Perhaps he has the herb you speak of in his assortment of herbs."

The man nodded, eager to do anything to please his guest and to finally get to the point that interested him most, the horse that the stranger had. But before the potion maker could ask, Gandalf spoke up again,

"You told me about the poison and what it would do. But I think you never told me what kind of poison it is. What is its name? What is it made from?"

The old man absentmindedly took up some dried berries from the table and shifted them from one hand to the next. He swallowed thickly, stared at the ceiling, the walls, the floor – everywhere but Gandalf.

Sighing inwardly, Gandalf said briskly, "Speak up! I have not come all the way to leave with empty hands!"

Jumping in surprise at the harsh tone, the thin potion maker lifted a hand to his head and moved it through his greasy hair. "You w-will not know it, it is an old p-poison. From the Second Age. Legend tells that the Dark Lord Sauron himself created it."

Gandalf felt a shudder race through him, as something in his mind reached out to memories long forgotten. A picture of a huge library flashed through his head, but he could not grasp the thought before it disappeared. Frowning, he asked softly, not sure if he wanted to know, "Its name?"

"Nuru-aiwe, that is Quenya and means…"

But Gandalf caught him off, his voice barely above a whisper. "Dead Bird."

"Aye. Y-you speak the ancient tongue?"

Nodding, Gandalf began to pace the small room, tugging at his long grey beard, thoughts racing. The potion maker had told him of the effects the poison would have on his friends, but until now Gandalf had not made the connection to this poison. And now, he clearly remembered where he had heard from it.

He had read about the poison while staying in Orthanc many, many decades ago. At that time, he had only skimmed the old scrolls that spoke of this evil poison, giving the matter not more than a fleeting moment of his time. It had not been necessary; there had been no reason to read the scroll more closely. But now…

Cursing under his breath, Gandalf tried to remember what he knew of the poison, but to his dismay only the gruesome description of the victims had stayed in his memory. And the little bit about the legend that Sauron had created it. That was rubbish, he knew.

Turning to the old potion maker, who still played with the dried berries in his hands, Gandalf demanded, "Tell me all you know. Leave nothing out and…do not lie. I will know if you do."

The man swallowed thickly, but when he saw the steely glint in the wizard's eyes, he began to speak.

"The poison is based on a plant called Velvet Leaf. That is a woody vine that can be up to four inches thick and grows in the canopy of trees. It has large heart shaped leaves which are of a vibrant green with a soft silky underside made out of tiny silver hairs. Its flowers are rather small, silver-white and they grow in clusters. It has its name from its use. Some hunters made a poison out of it and tipped their arrowheads in it. The poison would then affect their prey.

"The original poison was made by crushing the roots of the plant, then cook them, boil it down for two days until it became a dark-coloured paste. In its pure form it would only paralyse animals and kill them by way of suffocating. You see, the poison relaxes the muscles, all muscles but the heart. But when the lungs stop working, the animal died a slow and agonizing death. Large animals sometimes took an hour or more to die. They would be conscious all the time, but unable to move.

"Do you know how they tested the potency of the poison aforetime? They cut a rabbit with a poisoned blade and then counted how many leaps it could take before dying. Truly imaginative and quite effective.

"W-well, I found a recipe that added a few ingredients here and there. I combined the Velvet Leaf with Blisterfrog venom, some Bloodmushrooms, Hemlock, Jawleaf, Deadly Nightshade, a few other herbs of little importance. They just improved the taste.

"This new poison was more potent, lasting and deadly than the pure poison. And, where Velvet Leaf only worked if it got into the bloodstream, the new mixture took effect by eating it."

The thin man licked his lips, and his eyes held a glimmer that had been absent so far. The more he talked, the more he seemed lost in his words, and Gandalf had no intention to interrupt him. So far, he had learned more than he needed to know to perhaps find an antidote on his own, even if he could not find the main ingredient the potion maker had mentioned earlier. After only a moment of silence, the old man resumed his narrative.

"The stages of the poison vary slightly from person to person, depending on their condition, age, weight, health and so forth, but in the end they all succumb to the poison. No exception; they all kill themselves or die from the symptoms. And as the production of the antidote requires a precise knowledge of the poison, and the poison is known only to very few people, they never have a chance. It took me days to make the antidote for my last customer.

"I do not think that man valued the effort I had put into making it…but he paid well."(1)

Gandalf held his breath. Perhaps this was the chance to get to know the man's identity. Softly, so as not to startle the old potion maker, he asked, "What did he look like, this man?"

Gazing at Gandalf with glassy eyes, apparently still lost in his words, the potion maker frowned minutely, rolling the berries between his fingers. "He was tall, slim but muscled, white hair, strange red eyes. An eerie man, that one."

Then he fell silent, and Gandalf bent forwards to look the man into his eyes. "Do you know his name?"

"No. But I think he once mentioned that he was from G-Gondor." Fear crept into the voice, and then the man suddenly cleared his throat, moved his hand through his greasy hair and shuffled around the room. It was clear that he would not say more on his own accord. Only the mentioning of the customer had already scared him. Now, Gandalf knew why this old man so desperately wanted to leave this town.

But that was not what shocked Gandalf the most. He had never seen the man who had kidnapped Aragorn three years ago, but from what Elrond had told him, and what he had learned from the twins and even Legolas, this mysterious customer had to be that man. The similarities were striking! But that was simply impossible. That man had died! Tumbled down a chasm!

And what if he was still alive and out there, bend on revenge? Feeling his heart beat quicker in a feeling of foreboding, Gandalf turned once more to the old man. "The antidote, can it be made on another basis? Any other plant?"

"No, no, I told you. It has to be made of lilies of the valley. Fresh, dried, it does not matter. But it has to be this plant!" The man told him agitatedly, shaking slightly. Then, as if he had a sudden idea, he eyed Gandalf with wide eyes. "W-why do you ask of the white haired man?"

"I want to know everything that…."

"You know him, you are in league with him!" The voice of the man rose an octave, and he began to sweat and move away from Gandalf. The mentioning of the customer had upset him so much that he even began to be afraid of Gandalf.

"No, I do not know him. I am…"

"You will tell him I told you about the poison. This is a test. He will kill me…you will kill me! He had never planned to let me live, I knew it. I knew it!" The man moved into a corner of the small room, trembling and looking panicked.

Trying to calm the man, Gandalf lifted his hand in a placating gesture. "Please, I do not intend…"

But the moment Gandalf lifted his arm, his grey cloak parted somewhat, revealing the shining sword he carried. The thin potion maker stared at it wide-eyed, and the panicked glimmer in his eyes intensified. He looked around the room for a means of escape, and then his eyes fell on the berries in his hands. Before Gandalf could do anything, he whispered, "No, you will not get me. My d-death is mine to create." Then, he lifted his hand and without second thought, he dropped the dried berries into his mouth and swallowed them.

Only a few seconds later he began to convulse, froth appearing before his mouth and trickling down his chin. When Gandalf reached his side, he had already succumbed to the deadly berries, his eyes staring blankly to the ceiling. Silence settled on the room.

Gently, Gandalf set the body onto the ground, then stood and moved over to the table to collect the herbs and plants that lay there. He knew he had not a moment to spare if he wanted to reach Imladris in time. And, he thought sadly, not only an old man had died here, but with him perhaps the only chance to save his friends.

--oOo--

They were near, Glorfindel was certain of that. Only a few more turns, up that hill, around that rock, across that river and then through this cluster of bushes. But the longer he and his warriors followed the trail of Legolas's horse, the more he began to doubt his decision to send the animal back to Imladris.

It was not that they could not follow the track, but rather that the horse had wandered around in the forest, stopping here and there, only to then walk back the way it had come. It was confusing and frustrating to follow an obviously agitated horse's tracks.

But still they sped on as fast as they could, in the hope of finding their friends ere it was too late.

--oOo--

It was a few hours after sunrise, and the elves and humans had broken camp early to head for Imladris. In the afternoon they would arrive at the cliffs that surrounded the hidden valley, then follow the tree line along the edge until they would make it down into the belly of the valley and to the Last Homely House.

The snow had not stopped falling during the night, and now it covered the ground with its white softness. The flakes sailed lazily down to the earth, and had it not been for the snorting of the horses, the creaking of leather and the occasional movement of one of the riders, it would have been completely silent.

There were no animals, no wind, no sound. As if the world was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come, only that none of the riders knew what it was. That was, none but Elrohir. He had slept very badly that night. The tense feeling in his stomach had returned, and he knew without a doubt that the next phase of the poison would attack soon.

He did not know what it was or how it would affect him, but he dreaded the moment his body would react to the poison and send him into…whatever it was. For hours they were riding; Legolas in front of him and Aragorn in front of Elladan, but Elrohir knew not whether they should stop to wait for the poison to act.

What if it attacked while they were riding along the edge of the cliffs? What if he was endangering Legolas, as it was usually him who felt the venom first? Fear and dread made him shift in the saddle, but he said nothing. Not yet.

Aragorn's fever had returned during the night, and Elrohir needed not the keen eyesight of elves to see that the knee had gotten worse as well. Furthermore, Aragorn was so pale that Elrohir felt the urge to take his pulse to make sure that he was still with them. Not even the slight red blush from the fever could make his face look healthier.

The coldness was not improving his condition in the slightest, but there was nothing they could do about it. They had given him all the blankets they had, but that did not keep Aragorn from feeling the cold seep through his clothing, or numb his hands and legs. It was simply not enough.

With longing Elrohir thought about the pain reducing tea he had made to help his brother, but the tea, together with most of their provisions had been in the saddlebags of Legolas's horse and therefore was irretrievably lost to them. Elrohir did not even want to think about the amount of pain Aragorn had to be in.

Or Legolas, for that matter. The whole morning, the elf had sat stiffly in front of him on the horse, neither speaking nor indicating that he was aware of anything besides his own pain. Elrohir knew that Legolas must feel horrible. A broken bone always hurt, but a broken shoulder blade that had not been properly set, with no herbs to help with the pain and sitting on a horse all day long…

And the cold was not helping either. In the beginning the chill in the air had helped to cool the skin and muscles, so that the swelling had been minimal, but now the cold was contra-productive. What Legolas now needed were warm compresses and poultices to help relax the muscles and sinews, so that the bone could heal. It was frustrating for the younger twin to know what had to be done, but to be unable to do it.

Sighing inwardly and trying to shuffle back a bit on the horse to give Legolas more freedom, Elrohir let his gaze travel to the forest around them. The eerie quiet worried him a bit, but he knew that they were close to the hidden valley, and no orcs or wargs dared to come this close to their home. Perhaps they were lucky and even met a border patrol. They patrolled the borders of their home in regular intervals, but the last flet they had passed had shown no signs of inhabitation.

The horse snorted softly under him, drawing his attention back to the animal and the road in front of them. For indeed, they had met with the road this very morning, leaving the wilderness behind them.

Taking a deep breath, Elrohir wondered whether Legolas had noticed the stillness around them, too. Or… the small bug that was just crawling up Legolas's right arm. Frowning, Elrohir reached out and snipped the bug off of Legolas's arm, only to see another one crawl up the other arm. He snipped that away as well and was just about to ask Legolas about the stillness when his eyes landed on Legolas's head.

Elrohir's eyes widened and a small gasp left his lips. Right in front of him, there was a huge insect with small black eyes and sharp looking pinchers, walking over Legolas's blond hair. Disgusted, Elrohir lifted his hand to remove it when he stopped mid air. The…insect was watching him! Then it clicked its pinchers and…buried itself deep in Legolas's hair.

A shudder raced down Elrohir's back, and he took a few quick breaths. Ewww, he hated bugs and insects and generally all crawling creepers. They gave him the creeps. The problem was, he could not kill them either. He just…ewww.

Swallowing and wondering briefly why Legolas was not feeling the animals moving along in his hair and on his head, Elrohir reached out once more to remove the insect. But then, he saw something even more disgusting, and his breath caught in his throat. With mounting horror he sat on the horse, sweat breaking out on his skin, his entire frame shaking slightly; he could not move, or scream or do anything.

He saw a worm crawl out of Legolas's collar and then move around the neck to lie there like a necklace. A few ants were making their way up Legolas's arms, some maggots chewed on his hair, a bark beetle sat on the cheek, a huge black spider landed right on top of Legolas's head, and with a sick feeling in his stomach, Elrohir saw a centipede crawl into Legolas's right ear, wriggling while it went.

A silent scream left Elrohir's lips, but he was still unable to move. He watched helplessly as a cockroach exited out of the cloak and made its way over to some spittlebugs only to be joined a moment later by a group of booklice. Some flies flew around Legolas's head, then came to rest on his other ear while fleas jumped hither and thither.

More and more bugs and insects landed on Legolas or crawled across his body, settling in his long hair and making their nests there. A grasshopper hopped happily from Legolas's right ear to his left, then back again, only to settle on the elf's forehead. Ice crawlers(2) wriggled into the blonde tresses, snakeflies buzzed, termites poked the skin, beetles whizzed here and there…it was as if Legolas's entire head had become the home for all the insects and bugs that inhabited the forest.

Not for a moment did Elrohir realize that the insects should be dead in this season of the year, or that Legolas would not sit still when myriads of flies and midges flew around him…or when a huge black beetle cut open the skin on his neck, drawing blood, and then wormed its way under the skin!

This was enough. With a guttural scream Elrohir flung his arms around Legolas's waist and threw them both off the horse and into the white snow. The flies protested the movement and an intense buzzing filled the air, but Elrohir did not notice it. He had reached a state of panic, and all he could think of was to help his friend.

He had to get the bug out form under the skin, or else it would move around in his body and in the end eat Legolas alive!

Frantic, Elrohir reached behind him and took his hunting knife from his belt. Legolas was struggling under him, calling his name, but Elrohir did not heed his words. Of course, now Legolas had noticed all the crawly-creepers and was trying to get them off.

Hearing movement behind him but being too focused on his friend's bleeding neck, Elrohir held the struggling Legolas down with one hand while he placed the other over Legolas's neck to extricate the bug.

His knife tip had nearly reached the skin when two strong arms clamped down on his forearms and roughly pulled him off of Legolas. No, this was not right, he thought. Do they not see the bugs? I need to help him.

Fighting against the restraining arms, Elrohir called out loudly, "Let me go! Let me! I need to help him!"

Elladan, who had grabbed his brother, just as he had done with Legolas only a few days ago, yelled himself, confused by what he had just witnessed, "Ro, calm down. What is it? What is with Legolas?"

"Dan, look! They are everywhere. One got under his skin, we have to get it out!" And with that he struggled even harder, not understanding why his brother stopped him from helping their friend. But Elladan would not let go; instead, he nodded his head in Legolas's direction.

"Look, Ro, he is alright. He is fine."

And it was true. After Elladan had freed him of Elrohir, Legolas stood up, confused and in pain from the sudden fall off the horse, but otherwise hale. Legolas shared a quick look with Elladan and then with Aragorn, who was still mounted on the horse.

Elrohir's panicked voice echoed from the trees. "But the bugs, they are everywhere, they will kill him! Let me, Dan, let me!"

"No, Ro! Calm down!"

Now more confused than ever, Legolas bent his head and looked down at himself, but he saw not one bug. Snow, some branches and dead leaves, but certainly no bugs. Shaking his head, he took a step towards Elrohir and Elladan.

"Elrohir, there are no bugs on me. I am fine."

"But your neck, Legolas. One cut you, you are bleeding!"

Frowning, Legolas reached up and touched his neck, but when he withdrew his fingers, there was no blood. And he felt no pain either. No, something was definitely wrong here.

Staring into the distraught Elrohir's eyes, Legolas placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Ro, there is no blood. All is well, I am not hurt."

Elrohir's huge eyes locked on Legolas's fingers, and he shook his head. "I can see the blood. It is on your fingers. It…it runs down your neck. Legolas…D-Dan, can you not see it?"

Worried, Elladan shook his head and softened his grip on his brother now that Elrohir had calmed down a bit and was no longer trying to "save" Legolas. "No, Ro. I cannot see it. Estel, can you see blood or…bugs?"

From atop the horse, Aragorn said softly, "No, brother, I see nothing. But…I have a suspicion."

In unison, the four companions cursed, "The poison."

Horrified, they shared a look, and then Elladan released his brother completely. Elrohir sheathed his knife with shaking hands and then looked at Legolas. Tentatively, he reached out a shaking hand, and Legolas let him touch his neck.

Elrohir withdrew his fingers and stared at them, confused. When he said nothing, Legolas asked softly, "Ro, do you see blood on your fingers?"

The younger twin nodded and then wiped his perfectly clean fingers on his leggings. A confused look crossed his face. "What is going on? Why do I see such things?"

Elladan shrugged, helpless. "What exactly did you see, Ro?"

Swallowing and trying to suppress the shivers that still raced down his spine, Elrohir explained, "I see insects and bugs crawl over Legolas's arms and back. They are in his hair, his collar, on his face and…in his ears. One of them, a huge b-bug cut his neck and c-crawled under the skin."

Elrohir had paled visibly, and Elladan instinctively drew his brother into an embrace. He knew how much Elrohir hated bugs. Since they had been small elflings, Elrohir had despised the little animals. No one really knew why, it was simply that he had nightmares about them, and whenever he saw a bug, he either made a huge berth around it or tried to ignore it. Of course, living in Imladris and hunting in the woods meant to see bugs everywhere, and Elrohir had made a truce with them. As long as they left him alone, he would leave them alone. It worked…most times.

"Shh, Ro, all is well. There are no bugs on Legolas. Not one. And it is way too cold for them. You know that. They are dead in winter. Every single one of them." And in an afterthought, he added, "And I will protect you from the ones that are bold enough to attack a mighty elf warrior such as you. The little bugs will have no chance against my sword."

Elrohir chuckled softly and satisfied that his attempt to lighten the mood had worked, Elladan drew away from his brother. Giving him a sympathetic look, he asked him, "Do you still see the bugs, Ro?"

Elrohir glanced at Legolas, then nodded. He still saw flies buzz around Legolas's head, and cockroaches crawl across his skin. Just as he was looking, a fat maggot wriggled out from under the braids and fell to the ground, only to slowly worm its way up Legolas's leg again.

Another shudder raced across Elrohir's back, and he suddenly felt very sick. He turned away from Legolas, clamped a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes. His mind told him that what he saw was not real, but somebody should tell his stomach the same thing.

Elladan rubbed his back in soothing circles while Legolas shared a worried look with Aragorn. Neither of them knew what to say or do, and so they simply waited until Elrohir had calmed down sufficiently to talk again. But when he did, he was trying his best to not look at Legolas.

"It has to be the poison. I felt uneasy all morning and of course it would be me who is attacked first."

"Aye, but why would you see b…what you did?" Aragorn asked, frowning. He had been forced to watch the scene unfold in front of his eyes, unable to follow Elladan down from the horse, as his entire body was either numb, stiff or in severe pain. Valar, he hurt so much that he had problems staying upright on the horse without Elladan's support.

Shrugging, Elrohir suggested, "Perhaps the poison made me hallucinate and showed me what I hate."

"Well, it is certainly a possibility. Ro, it will pass, I am sure. The phases always did. Just hold on."

Elrohir nodded, but he did not look at his companions. His gaze lingered on the snow at his feet, and after a moment he took a deep breath and said, "Legolas, I am truly sorry. So sorry. I did not want to hurt you, mellon nin."

Legolas felt the urge to hold Elrohir and reassure him that he was all right, but he knew that it would not help Elrohir if he neared him. "It's alright. It was not your fault, you only wanted to help me."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, and then Aragorn decided to turn back to a rather serious question. "When the poison shows us what we hate or fear, what will Dan and I see? We should be prepared."

Elladan nodded. "Aye. I do not know what I will see, there are some possibilities." He did not want to elaborate, but Aragorn prodded, "What possibilities, Dan?"

Sighing, Elladan tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear and cleared his throat. "I hate…um…well…perhaps I will see…hedgehogs."

"Hedgehogs?" Legolas could not help but burst out in a disbelieving tone.

Snapping irritably, Elladan answered, "Well, you would hate them too, if you sat on one."

A surprised look flittered across Legolas's face and despite the seriousness of the situation, he could not help but grin stupidly. Aragorn snickered softly and even Elrohir grinned.

"Fine! Go ahead and laugh, but I tell you, it was very painful, and it took ada ages to remove the spines. I bled a lot, too."

Suppressing his smile but unable to hold back the laughter in his voice, Legolas asked, "I take it, you killed that dangerous beast on the spot for attacking you."

"I was only an elfling, Legolas." The look Elladan shot him would have made lesser elves run for their life.

Another chuckle left Legolas's lips, and Elladan decided that it was time for Aragorn to tell them what he would see.

"Estel, what could you see?"

"Hm, what I hate?" A frown marred Aragorn's handsome features, and he thought for a moment. He tried not to turn around in the saddle and glance at Dagnir, but it was a hard task. After a few moments, he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Many things."

Inwardly, he was scared. Truly scared. There were some things that he hated and feared, and that he had never told his family or friend about. He did not want them to learn about his innermost fears. That was something personal. To be afraid of bugs or hedgehogs was nothing compared to the horrors that now flashed before his inner eye. Pictures of the nightmares he had had as a small child. Pictures filled with blood and bodies and accompanied by screams and cruel laughter.

But what made him even more afraid was the fact that he did not really know what he hated enough to be shown to him. He hated orcs and the other foul beasts, but his brothers hated them more after what had happened to their mother, and Elrohir had not seen them. No, instead he was seeing a thing he hated rather subconsciously.

Aragorn shifted on the horse, unable to meet his brothers' and Legolas's gaze. What would he see? He did not want to cause his family and friend so much pain by worrying them so. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his features into a worried but not overly concerned mask, then looked at the elves.

His voice sounded honest, and Aragorn was surprised at his ability to come up with not only a lie, but present it without hesitation,

"Perhaps I will see spiders. Ever since I was in Mirkwood those eight-legged monsters give me the creeps. No offence meant, Legolas."

"None taken." Legolas waved a hand through the air, indicating that he was not offended by Aragorn's dislike of their little "pets".

Elladan gave him a slightly suspicious look, but then he shrugged his shoulders. "I think we should move on. There is nothing we can do now. And, although your are definitely in a terrible state, Ro, I do not think it is harmful to you. The closer we are to home when either Estel or I are attacked, the better."

Elrohir nodded. Another thought had entered his mind, but he was too embarrassed to mention it. He should not have been surprised when Aragorn spoke up, saying exactly what he was not able to tell,

"Dan, I think Ro should ride with me, and you can ride with Legolas. And I also think that Ro and I should take the lead."

Elladan and Legolas shared a look and then nodded. Of course, Elrohir still saw bugs and insects crawl over Legolas; it would be very hard for him to ride with Legolas, even so he knew it was only a hallucination. And when Ro and Aragorn took the lead, Elrohir would not see Legolas by accident.

They mounted quickly, Elladan behind Legolas and Elrohir behind Aragorn, and soon they had moved on. After a few minutes of silence, Elrohir spoke up, "Dan, Estel, when you see something that seems not right, no matter what it is, tell us."

Both nodded; they were warned now and would heed Elrohir's advice. A few more minutes passed in silence, but then Elladan said so softly that only Legolas could hear him, "Legolas, did you hurt your shoulder when you fell off the horse?"

"No, Dan."

"Legolas?" The older twin prompted with a warning tone in his voice.

"Really. The snow softened my fall. I admit that it hurts a bit more than before, but not overly much so. Do not worry."

Elladan nodded and sat back a bit, and they rode on in silence, each of them lost in their own musings.

--oOo--

The morning passed without another attack of the poison, and when the sun reached the zenith behind the grey clouds, the snow stopped falling. The trees bend under the heavy load of the wet snow, and here and there it already tumbled from the thin branches. A breeze had come up, chasing the clouds across the sky and making the riders shiver.

The snow melted on their skin and hair, and Aragorn especially felt very miserable. After the attack of the poison, Elrohir had wrapped his arms around his middle rather tightly, pressing on his broken ribs, but Aragorn had almost instantly decided to say nothing. His brother was upset and distraught; he needed something or someone to anchor him to reality, and if Aragorn could serve for that purpose, he was glad to do so.

With the passing of the hours, Elrohir released his death grip on his chest, giving him more space to breathe properly, but Aragorn still felt as if his brother was holding him too tight. His chest hurt, and each breath he took burned in his lungs. Wet strands of hair clung to his face, and he knew that it was not simply wet because of the melted snow.

His fever burned brightly within him. It was not yet frighteningly high, but another day out in the cold without enough to eat or herbs to tend his wounds, he knew that his condition would deteriorate rapidly. Alas, it could not be helped, and he knew it.

Aragorn shifted in the saddle and before he could stop it, a small groan escaped his lips. Of course, Elrohir tensed behind him and then leaned forwards and around him to be able to look into his face.

"Estel? Are you feeling well? Is it the poison?"

"Yes and…no. I see nothing out of the ordinary."

A tsk sound came from behind him. "You are not well, Estel, even a blind dwarf could see that. We should rest for a while."

And before Aragorn could contradict his words, Elrohir called out to Elladan and Legolas, "Dan, Legolas! I think we should rest for a while."

Elladan gazed at him questioningly, but then his eyes flashed with understanding, and he stopped his horse and slowly dismounted, helping Legolas down as well. "This place is as good as any other."

Elrohir nodded and briefly glanced at Legolas. After a moment he looked away and took a deep breath, but they could all tell that he was feeling better, and that the sight of Legolas did not sicken him anymore.

Helping Aragorn from the horse proved to be more difficult than they had thought. His legs were practically numb, his injured arm useless, and his burned hand of not much use. It needed Elladan's and Elrohir's combined help and strength for him to dismount, and when he finally slid down form the horse, his legs buckled under him almost immediately. He would have crashed to the ground, had it not been for his brothers' supportive grip on his arms and around his waist.

Sinking to the ground close to some snow covered bushes, Aragorn groaned softly as his broken ribs send fiery stabs of pain through his chest. But the pain was not strong enough to blend out the throbbing sensation in his knee.

No, Aragorn corrected himself quickly, the poker of molten lava that was being jabbed into his knee…repeatedly.

His pain went not unnoticed, of course, and only moments later Elrohir was starting a fire while Elladan placed as many of their blankets over Aragorn's shivering form as he could find. And that included the blanket that Dagnir had been using, as Aragorn noticed with a gleeful feeling in his stomach.

Legolas caught his eye, and Aragorn saw the satisfied flicker in the blue orbs, and a second later Legolas grinned outright had him.

"He will not need it anyway. We are close to Imladris, he will not freeze in that short a time. And even if he gets cold, what is the worst that could happen? Lose a finger or two…"

Legolas waved his hand through the air as if the was chasing away a fly, and Aragorn chuckled softly. Only to regret it almost immediately as his broken ribs screamed at him in agony and made him cough and gasp.

"Easy, Estel. Take deep breath." Elladan soothed him, and when his coughing fit had eased and Aragorn was once more able to breathe normally, he nodded his thanks to his brother.

"Elladan, tell Legolas to stop making me laugh, it hurts."

"So, does he?" Elladan asked and raised an eyebrow in Legolas's direction. "Then I think I will have to teach our dear Prince some manners."

Smirking, Elladan sat down near Aragorn, using his long cloak to sit on. Meanwhile, Elrohir had kindle the fire despite all the snow, and they all huddled a bit closer to it. All except Dagnir, who sat, gagged and bound and glaring daggers at them, in the middle of the road, exposed to wind and cold. None of them had argued with Elladan about that arrangement.

Still grinning at Legolas, Elladan lifted his eyes heavenwards, seemingly lost in thought. "Let's see…ah, aye, that will do."

Turning to Aragorn and ignoring the slightly panicked look that Legolas send him, Elladan asked sweetly, "Estel, do you remember our visit to Torian and Taran?"

"'Course I do." Not knowing where this was leading, Aragorn frowned slightly.

"Aye, course you do." Elladan shot a glaring look in Dagnir's direction before he continued, "But what I wanted to remind you of was one particular, sunny morning."

Aragorn's eyes widened as he thought about the "orcy and ranger" incident, but Elladan quickly stopped any comments from his side, "No, not that incident. Although it was very funny." He grinned sweetly before he continued, "I am thinking of one morning close to the end of our stay. I think I heard a certain Prince yell something like 'My hair, oh please', but the sound was drowned out quickly, and when Ro and I knocked on Legolas's door he said that he was fine and we should not worry. Well, neither he nor you showed up for breakfast, and the excuse you presented was lame, to say the least. But, Ro and I let it go, thinking you had already enough to shoulder with the orcy-ranger thing.

"Now is another time and I truly wish to hear that tale."

Legolas had blanched considerably and he was playing with the hem of his shirt. His eyes flickered from the twins, to Aragorn and back to the twins, before he hissed, "Estel, saes, you promised."

Now knowing that there was definitely a tale to tell, the twins sat up straighter and shot the two friends curious glances, wondering who would win the argument. Aragorn seemed to ponder Legolas's hissed words for a moment, before he turned to Elladan, "He has a point there, Dan."

"Oh, but come on Estel. We are in need of a bit of fun."

Raising an eyebrow, Aragorn shot Legolas a look, "He has a point there, Legolas."

Said elf took a deep breath and glared at them all for a moment, obviously trying to think himself out of this situation. Then, he leaned forwards and said smugly to Elladan, "Dan, if Estel tells this story, than I will tell him why you looked so dishevelled when you returned to the camp the night before we parted company at the foot of the Misty Mountains."

Aragorn could clearly see how the colour drained from Elladan's face and his eyes locked on Legolas's smug face. "You wouldn't."

Legolas smiled widely, and the next moment Aragorn found himself in the middle of the rather stale tale of how Elladan and Elrohir had killed a bunch of orcs at the mere age of 2000, armed with nothing but a crossbow and a dagger. Aragorn knew the tale so well that he almost instantly felt his tired and burning eyes slip shut. But, the thought sleepily, I will get Legolas to tell me that story, someday.

Aragorn, now hovering between slumber and wakefulness, could not help but think that, despite their bantering, their situation looked grim. They were still many hours from Imladris, the snow made their path slippery, they could be attacked by wild animals, the mysterious fourth man was still out there somewhere, they had not met help yet and were on their own, they were all either poisoned or injured or both.

The fire crackled merrily, but it gave little warmth, and soon Aragorn felt the first icy shiver race through his body. He suppress it as good he could, unwilling to let his companions see his discomfort, but he had done that all day, and slowly but surely, even his strength was failing him. If not his determination.

Determination…sometimes during this whole nightmare his determination had been all that had sustained him. Determination to get over the sickness of the first attack, determination to get out of the stone prison, determination to survive Dagnir's games, determination to escape, to go home, to see his family again.

And now, now he was determined to not let his family see his weakness. Valar, he hurt. Never before in his whole life had he hurt that much. The broken ribs he could endure, the burned hand and the shot shoulder too, but the knee and the poison…He knew not.

What would he see when the poison attacked him? Would he, too, see some insects? He doubted that. He was not afraid of the giant spiders in Mirkwood; he had killed enough of them to know that they were far from invincible. But, what was it that hunted his nightmares, that chilled him to the bone in his moments of inattention, when he was not prepared? What was it that he hated and feared subconsciously?

As a child he had been afraid of waking up and being all alone, that his new family had abandoned him. Many nights he had woken, drenched in cold sweat, because the screams of orcs and humans had filled his dreams… the day his parents had died. He hated the smell of wet clothing and the sound of metal scratching over stone, he disliked the taste of blood in his mouth and the feeling of helplessness. Could the poison use that against him?

Suppressing another shiver, Aragorn opened his eyes once more, blinking. He did not want to sleep. The darkness houses too many evil things, and the sight of light and friendly faces was what he needed right now. That, and…

"Dan!"

Aragorn never had the time to think this thought to the end, for suddenly Elladan had thrown himself atop of him, and begun to pound on his legs and thighs. The pain that surged through his injured knee was so fierce that Aragorn could not help the agonized scream that left his lips, nor the tears of pain that escaped his closed eyes.

Elrohir yelled at his twin, Legolas tried to grasp Elladan's arms and from his place in the middle of the street Dagnir watched with glee. But all Aragorn felt was the pounding of Elladan's hands on his legs, and the gut wrenching pain in his knee.

Sweat broke out on his skin, and he feebly tried to shove his brother's hands away, but Elladan slapped his hands away mercilessly.

"Fire, Estel, you burn, your legs!"

"No, Dan. NO! Stop it, he is fine. Dan!" Elrohir yelled frantically, and suddenly the pounding stopped and all was quiet except for Aragorn's gasps of pain.

Unbidden tears of pure agony rolled down his cheeks and wetted his hair, but all Aragorn could do was try to breath and calm down his stomach. Bile was rising in his throat, hurting it and making him even more sick than the pain did. He swallowed thickly, once twice, but he lost the battle.

Aragorn rolled to the side and retched violently. Almost instantly, gentle hands pulled back his hair, another pair of hands supported his upper body, stopping him from collapsing. Again and again he retched, his abused body unable to stop, the heaving the only way to release some of the pain that coursed through his veins.

Aragorn trembled, his strength, build up so slowly over the last few days, was spend in one big rush of pain. The meagre meal that he had forced his body to eat in the morning spilled onto the ground, and when nothing was left to bring up, it still did not stop.

He trembled and gasped for air, his whole body bathed in sweat, and then, finally and mercifully, it stopped. Gasping, Aragorn had not even the strength left to lift himself or move away from the mess he had made, but there was no need to.

The same gentle hands that had supported him, wiped his mouth and sweaty face, pressed a water flaks at his lips and rolled him onto his back. With his head resting in Elrohir's lap, Aragorn tried to control his breathing, tried to calm the raging beast of pain in his stomach, and wished suddenly for someone to take his sword and chop off his leg, for the pain he was now enduring could not be worse than that.

With his blood rushing in his ears and his own raspy breathing as background, Aragorn could only partly hear Elladan's muttered apologies.

"…Estel. I …sorry, brother. I…burning."

Weakly, Aragorn shook his head, but the movement caused another fiery stab of pain to race through his knee, right up to his thigh, and the pain made his gasp and cough.

"Easy Estel, shh, try to take deep breaths." Legolas soothed, resting a slender hand on his friend's forehead.

Gulping down the bile that once more rose in the back of his throat, Aragorn mused that one day he would tell his brothers and friend to stop telling him to take deep breaths; it did not work.

The raging beast named pain that had taken up permanent residence in his battered body calmed only slowly. And even then it seemed reluctant to relinquish its hold entirely; his chest hurt fiercely, his knee made him shiver and sweat from the fire that burned there, and his head pounded with the rush of his blood. But, the sickness left him and after many, many minutes he was able to open his eyes and stare blearily up at his companions.

His head was cushioned in Elrohir's lap, who stroked his forehead softly, as if he was afraid of causing him more pain. The elf looked clearly shocked, and the smile that he gave Aragorn turned into a grimace.

Upon turning his head a bit, Aragorn saw Legolas kneel at his side, eyeing him worriedly, his forehead lined in concern. Legolas flashed him the shortest of smiles, before he brushed the back of his fingers against Aragorn's cheek in a gesture of comfort.

The only person Aragorn could not see, was Elladan. He moved his head left and right, but his oldest brother was nowhere to be seen. Taking a breath and flinching at the pain it caused, Aragorn more wheezed than spoke,

"Where is he?"

Even in his agonized state Aragorn did not miss the look that passed between Elrohir and Legolas, and when they did not answer right away, he asked, "Is he well?"

It was Elrohir who answered, "Of course he is not alright, Estel. He caused his little brother pain."

When Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, Elrohir shook his head, letting his thumbs caress Aragorn's cheeks, "Nay Estel. He knows it was not his fault, but it pains him nevertheless. Give him time."

Aragorn thought a moment, then nodded. "What happened? What did he see?"

Elrohir sighed deeply, and then said frustrated, "I should have seen this coming. Really. Estel, Dan thought the you were on fire. That the fire had spread and caught your clothing. He attempted to put it out."

Fire? Aragorn asked himself since when his brother was afraid of fire. Never before, at least not since he could remember, had Elladan shown any fear concerning fire. His confusion must have been visible on his features, for Elrohir sighed once more, and then said softly,

"Dan was very young when it happened. Even young for an elfling. We played in the Hall of Fire; ran around, joked, laughed, chased each other. Dan stumbled over the hearthrug and fell into the fire. Glorfindel pulled him out immediately, but he was had sustained numerous burns. Ada treated them and they healed, but for years afterwards Dan would not go near fire. He grew out of it, of course, but, you know, sometimes I still catch him shoot flying spark a wary look.

"I should have seen this coming."

"No, Ro." Legolas had placed a firm had on Elrohir's shoulder. "There was no way you could have seen this coming, and neither could Dan have. It is the poison that is doing this. It is not our fault."

Elrohir nodded, but his grateful smile was more a grimace. After a few silent moments, Elrohir bend down over Aragorn once more.

"How are you?"

/I feel as if a troll has crushed me, a Balrog has embraced me, a warg has ripped me limb from limb and ada has made me drink one of his special potions…/

"I have felt better." Aragorn tried to sound mildly frustrated, but the wince that rushed over his features as he drew breath somewhat messed up his attempt. And it seemed Elrohir and Legolas thought the same.

"Estel, do you think you can bear it if we move you?" Due to the churned snow, the scattered fire and the mess in the snow, Elrohir preferred another resting place.

_/No, absolutely not. Please no…/_

"Aye."

Legolas put his hands under Aragorn's legs, ever mindful of the injured knee, but even so, the movements of the strong arms jarred the knee, and Aragorn but his lip to keep from crying out. Elrohir positioned his arms behind Aragorn's shoulder, bracing his back. On the count of three, the two elves lifted Aragorn from the ground, and it was all Aragorn could do to not cry out in pure agony.

He clenched his eyes tightly shut, blocking out the world and concentrating on his breathing. Fire engulfed him, made his choke as gasp, and draw blood when he bit his cheek to anchor him to another kind of pain than the pain his injuries caused him. Pain that was his doing, that he could control, that would stop when he wanted it to stop.

It was over ere it had really begun, but the short trip from their first camp site to the other side of the road seemed to last hours for Aragorn. Once he was lying on the ground once more, sweating and panting, resisting the urge to roll into a tight ball, Aragorn wished nothing more than to lose consciousness, if only for a while.

He knew that his brother would want to take a look at his wounds and tend them. And if even the small, controlled movement of his brother and best friend had hurt him so much, how much more would tending his wounds hurt him?

Legolas sat down near him, placing a comforting hand on his uninjured shoulder, and spreading a blanket over him to keep him warm. When Aragorn opened his eyes, he only saw Legolas; Elrohir was nowhere in sight.

"He has gone to Elladan. Make him see reason, comfort him, bring him back." Legolas told him.

"Good. Dan is too stubborn for his own good." Aragorn commented, then closed his eyes tiredly. Valar, he was tired.

"Rest a bit, Estel. Rest while you still can."

Aragorn felt Legolas brush some sweaty strands of hair from his forehead, and then he drifted off into a slight slumber. He knew he would awake as soon as his brothers were back, for then the treatment of his injuries would begin.

_/And I will have to talk to Dan. It was not his fault. And he should not be alone out there. The strange fourth man could still be around. Oh Dan…/_

--oOo--

Elrohir approached his brother, crunching the snow with more force under his feet than was necessary, as he was not sure that Elladan would hear him. He was not facing him, but leaning against a tree, with his head bowed. The long, dark hair hid his features, and Elrohir knew not whether Elladan was crying, or furious, or scared, or…

"Dan?"

Elladan's shoulders tightened, but he did not turn.

"Dan, please, it was not your fault. Dan…" Elrohir said soothingly, and then hesitatingly put his hand on his brother's tense shoulder. Scooting closer, he spoke softly, "Estel is alright. He wants to see you, muindor. He wants to make sure that you are alright, too, Dan."

A tremor raced down Elladan's back, and Elrohir took a surprised step back when Elladan suddenly pulled back his arm and let his right fist crash into the tree he was leaning against. A strangled sob escaped Elladan's lips, and then he slumped against the tree.

"I hit him, Ro. I…hurt him. How could I? H-How could I do that?" He whispered, his face still hidden behind the curtain of dark hair.

Not knowing what else to do, Elrohir hugged his brother, letting Elladan bury his face into his shoulder. Rubbing his brother's back, he soothed, "It was not your fault, Dan, it was the poison. You did not want to hurt him. You tried to help him, rescue him."

"I hurt him…he…he brought up blood, Ro."

A shiver crawled down Elrohir's spine. He, too, had seen the red blood mingled with the rest of Aragorn's breakfast. He did not know what it meant, but he would not let his brother take the blame for it.

"No, that was not your fault. It is the poison, Dan, the poison."

And so they stood there in the silent, snowy forest. For once, it was the younger of the twins who comforted the older, gave strength and support in time of great need.

--oOo--

Morgwath grinned wickedly as he saw the three horses on the road in front of him. He was only a stone throw away from them, and from what he could see of the riders, they were all either very tired or injured.

Taking a long look at his surroundings, Morgwath knew that it was time to act. The home of the elves was not far away, and with it his chance of getting his revenge. Three years he had lived in utter joy, knowing that the murderer of his brother had met his own end. That was, until he had one day met said murderer in a dusty inn in Tharbad, alive and well.

It had taken all his self-control to not kill Dagnir on the spot, but to actually safe the man from some drunken ruffians and to see what the man had planned and to make plans of his own. Plans that would make his revenge much, much sweeter than the simple rush of the kill. And then, this chance had presented itself when Dagnir had asked him to accompany him to Bree and then later to join his mission. After that, it had been so easy…

And now, now he would get his chance and kill the man who had killed his brother; he would avenge Bauglir! He could wait no longer, no matter elves were around, or that the elves would most likely give Dagnir a hard time once they reached their home. No, he had waited long enough! The days he had travelled through the forest, with pain radiating off his shot shoulder and the lack of decent food and sleep had taken their toll on him. He wanted it to end, now.

Taking his bow off of his back, Morgwath nocked an arrow and made his way through the forest. He would get what he wanted…now. And if the elves or the ranger got in his way, well, then be it so. He would not hesitate to kill them all.

Tbc…

* * *

**(1)** If the poison sounds familiar to you, kudos! I took "Curare" as a basis for my poison, because I remembered it from school. Description and properties of the poison are taken from "_The Healing Power of Rainforest Herbs" by Leslie Taylor_, 2005. I found an excerpt from her book on the net. 

**(2)** Ice crawlers are extinct, but I used them nevertheless. Does not mean they do not live in Arda, does it?

**(3)** Bauglir was Dagnir's second in command in Delw Yomenie. Dagnir did not kill him personally, that was...an elf.

* * *

_Hehe. Soooo, I thought it was time for another cliffy. I have not written one in ages. And I think it is kind of just payment for the dwindling number of reviews. Ha! See, I know how to get back at you. :D No, just kidding. Feedback is welcome as always. I hope you liked the chapter. The next one will be out as soon as I can manage. Hopefully next week, but I have a full day seminar on Monday/Tuesday and Wednesday is full too…I'll try!_


	30. 29 An unsuspected threat

**Warning:** Violence (in a way) and some horrid images

**Rating: T**

**A/N: **Hello! Sorry everybody that it took a bit over a week to update, but RL is sooooo busy at the moment. Therefore, no individual review replies this time. I simply have no time. Sorry. If you have any questions, I will reply to them of course, as usual.

_Elvish phrases:_

No diriel: Be watchful

* * *

_"What a good leader fears most, is that he leads his men not into victory, but death."_

_(Unknown)_

* * *

Chapter 29: An unsuspected threat

Faster and faster the horse raced across the open plains of Eriador, always close to the Greyflood. The falling snow was making Gandalf's hastened ride perilous, but whenever the horse slowed down, he pressed his thighs to the horse's flanks, urging it forwards.

After the death of the potion maker, he had searched the whole house, but besides some flasks and hidden powders, he had found nothing. No antidote, no lilies of the valley, nothing that could help him save his friends. He had not been able to bury the man properly, although he was certain none of the villagers would have questioned him. It was rather that he knew he had no time to lose.

Once more he felt a dark shadow descending upon him whenever he directed his thoughts towards his friends, and he felt nervous at the thought of what might have happened to them while he had been to the South. The future felt bleak and empty. As if there was someone missing in the future, someone who had the great capacity to change it for the better.

As he now sped along the road leading northwards, Gandalf could not help but feel to a certain degree scared. His friends were in danger, in mortal peril, and for the first time in all his years on Arda, Gandalf felt unable to help them.

--oOo--

Morgwath sneaked through the bushes and low shrubs, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He had done this so many times in his life that he felt absolutely certain not to be detected. It was always the same: Spot the prey, nock an arrow, sneak up on it…and kill it. It was easy, it was ridiculously easy.

But, this time was different, and he knew it. This time he was not hunting a mark for money, but for personal revenge. Dagnir had killed his brother, although he had not killed him personally. From what Morgwath knew, it had been an elf who had killed his brother, but that did not matter to him. Bauglir had been Dagnir's second in command, had been under his protection, his orders. He had followed him on a dangerous mission, a mission that had cost him his life. And now, Dagnir would pay for that.

Gripping his bow tighter and snarling in frustration when he felt his hands tremble, Morgwath crouched down behind a snow-covered tree, peering around the trunk to take a look at the road. Blood rushed to his pale face: Dagnir was sitting in the middle of the road, hands tied tightly behind his back, gagged and helpless.

A smile stole over his features, but he quickly reined in his emotions. He must not feel glee or any personal feelings if he was to do this as quickly and efficiently as possible. Emotions made the hands shake, the legs tremble and a shot go wide. Oh no, he had come too far to now miss.

Slowly, Morgwath lifted his bow in a shooting position and drew back the string. It was time for Dagnir to die.

--oOo--

Elladan and Elrohir made their way slowly back to Legolas and Aragorn. Despite what Elrohir had told him, Elladan felt guilty for what he had done, and he dreaded to face his brother. Oh, he knew that Aragorn would not blame him, he never did, but that did not help the feeling of immense guilt that had taken hold of his senses.

The snow crunched under their feet, but it was so soft that it was almost inaudible. While Elladan was still pondering his actions, Elrohir suddenly stopped in his tracks. With quick reflexes he threw out his arm, making Elladan stop as well. Frowning in curiosity at Elrohir's behaviour, Elladan opened his mouth to say something, but the look on his brother's face silenced him.

Elrohir had turned pale, and his eyes were wide in disbelief. Following Elrohir's gaze, Elladan glanced down at the ground…and gasped. There, imprinted in the white snow, were footsteps. Human footsteps.

Locking eyes with his brother, Elladan drew his bow while Elrohir unsheathed his sword as silently as possible; after many hundreds of years of fighting, it was an easy feat, even with the cold making the leather of the sheath stiff and unyielding, and the metal ring on its end freezy.

Side by side they followed the tracks, always on the lookout for the human who had made them. In their minds, they had no doubt who had been following them; the fourth human had tracked them. The only thing that puzzled them was how the man had been able to keep up with them, for they had taken all the horses and provisions with them when they had left the Misty Mountains behind.

But all that did not matter at the moment. What mattered was that they had left Legolas and Aragorn alone and unprotected. The two did not anticipate to be attacked, and with Aragorn hurt badly and ill, Legolas would most likely not take his attention away from his friend.

Fear spreading in their stomachs, mingled with anger, the twins made their way around leafless bushes and over small boulders until Elladan suddenly spotted movement in front of them. Narrowing his eyes, he could make out a dark shape, huddled behind a large tree.

Gesturing towards his brother, he moved to the left, while Elrohir moved to the right. They would attack from two sides. But then, something unexpected happened. The dark clad man lifted his bow, nocked an arrow and aimed.

Knowing that they were too late and that the man would shoot any second now, the twins did the only thing they could think of: Elladan let go of his arrow, while Elrohir screamed at the top of his lungs, "No diriel!"

Elladan's arrow rushed through the air, but the human had already loosened his own arrow. Two screams echoed though the forest, and then silence settled. The dark clad man slumped to the side, an elvish arrow deeply embedded in his back.

Holding his sword at the ready, Elrohir made his way over to the fallen human, his thoughts racing. Who had screamed? Had it been Legolas, or Aragorn? No, no, it had been Legolas. Had the arrow of the human hit Legolas, was he injured? Or had the man aimed at Aragorn and Legolas had screamed in denial?

His musings were cut short when he reached the man's side. But he need not have worried to be attacked. The man was lying on his back, and red blood melted the snow under him, creating tiny rivulets of red to sneak through the snow, almost like a blossoming flower.

Another trickle of blood made its way down the man's chin, and upon seeing it Elrohir knew that Elladan's arrow had pierced the lung. This man would be dead soon. Lifting his head minutely and nodding towards Elladan who sped past him towards the campsite, Elrohir wondered why the man had followed them. Why had he not stayed were he was? Why risk his life to follow them?

Just as he was to ask, the man spoke, more blood trickling down his chin, "You're too late, elf. I have my revenge." He coughed, flinching in pain.

"Why?" It was all Elrohir could say as his anger returned full force. Revenge, he was sick of the word.

A smile tugged at the man's lips. "He killed my brother."

"He killed no one who would not have deserved it."

A choked laugh came from the man. "He killed many. He would have killed the ranger without hesitation."

_/The ranger? Then he is not talking about Aragorn or Legolas, but about…Dagnir/_

Realization hit Elrohir fast and hard. Dagnir. This man was talking about Dagnir; he had shot the only human who could have possibly helped them, who was the only one who knew the cure to the poison! No, that could not be, that was not possible.

Denial showing in his eyes, Elrohir bend down to question the man, but he paused when he saw the man's eyes stare unseeing into the sky. He was dead.

--oOo--

His scream was still echoing in his own ears when Legolas fell to his knees beside the unmoving form of Dagnir. An arrow was protruding from the man's shoulder, red blood soaking into his cloak and shirt. Dagnir was panting against the pain, sweat on his brow and a fearful flicker in his eyes.

Upon seeing the man being hit by an arrow that had come out of the woods and hearing Elorhir's warning, Legolas had positioned himself over Aragorn, but the one arrow that had hit Dagnir had been the only one that had been fired.

By whom and why, Legolas did not know, but he knew that he had to save Dagnir's life; if he wanted to or not. This man was perhaps the only one who knew about the antidote, the only one that could save his friends.

Gripping the arrow shaft tightly, Legolas jerked the arrow free, unheeding of the muffled yell of pain that the injured man made through the gag. The arrow could be poisoned…

_/Serves him right if it is…/_

Out of the corner of his eyes, Legolas saw Elladan sprint from the forest, stop, and after making sure that Legolas was all right, sped to Aragorn, who was still lying on his back in the snow. Turning back to Dagnir, Legolas ripped a large piece of cloth from the man's own shirt and pressed it onto the wound to stop the flow of blood.

It irked him that he had to help this man, that he had to protect him, that he had to rescue him, save his miserable, wretched soul from the clutches of darkness. It was not fair.

Blood soaked quickly though the cloth, and Legolas ripped another piece out of the shirt to press it against the wound. The arrow had not exited on the other side of the shoulder, and he mused that Dagnir would live.

Without any pity, Legolas tore the rest of the shirt into pieces, padded the wound and wrapped it; he ignored the grunts of pain, the grimace of agony and the fear in the man's eyes as he did so. But, the questions about who and why still lingered in the back of his mind.

Having wrapped the wound, Legolas lifted Dagnir and positioned him behind the horses, so that the man was at least partly protected from any further attack. Then, he made his way back to his friends, seeing that Elrohir had joined his brothers.

"…is dead," Elrohir said when Legolas approached.

"Who?" he asked, coming to stand near Elladan, who had helped Aragorn into a sitting position, resting against his knees.

"The other human who was at the clearing. The one dressed in black," Elrohir answered, while his eyes swept over the snow-covered trees surrounding them as if he anticipated another attack.

"So he's dead? A pity." Legolas could not stop himself from saying. "Why did he try to kill us?"

"Oh, he did not." Upon Legolas's questioning look, Elrohir explained, "He was not after us, but that scum over there." He jerked his head in Dagnir's direction. "He said, before he died, that Dagnir had killed his brother. I do not doubt that."

"His brother?" Aragorn said from his position on the ground. "Then why did he not act sooner? He travelled with Dagnir quite some time."

"Ah, I do not know, Estel. And I do not care." Elrohir sighed wearily. "I know not why he did not act sooner, or why he followed us all the way, or why he did what he did. I do not know!" he said fiercely, before he wiped a hand across his forehead and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I am sorry Estel. I did not mean to shout at you."

"Think nothing about it. We are all …"

Before he could finish his sentence, though, Legolas piped up, "Nervous wrecks?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Silence settled for a few moments, before Elladan asked, "What about Dagnir? How bad is it?"

Shrugging and releasing a breath, Legolas said, "He'll live. I stopped the bleeding, and I do not think it is that bad. But we should get him to Imladris quickly if we want to prevent infection from setting in."

"That would be a shame, really," Elladan said sarcastically, but none of them smiled. They all knew that Aragorn's and even the twins' live could be resting in Dagnir's hands.

"We cannot bury that man here. We have not the means and no time. Once we are home, we will send someone to take care of him. But right now, let us ride on, we have lingered long enough," Elrohir said.

They nodded, and Elladan helped Aragorn to his feet, more carrying him than anything else to the waiting horse. Legolas watched the two go and smiled faintly; he did not know what the brothers had spoken of while he had tended to Dagnir, but from the relieved look on Elladan's face, things had turned for the better between them.

Soon, they had cleaned their resting place, mounted their horses, and were once more on their way to Imladris.

--oOo--

"We are nearing the cliffs. Perhaps we are lucky and a patrol spots us." Elladan wiped a hand through his hair, trying to get rid of some of the thick snow that had fallen on his head during the day.

"Aye, but we are still far from the path. It could still take some hours for any patrol to come our way. And with this snow…" Elrohir trailed off, glaring at the masses of white snow that covered the ground.

It had started to snow during the ride, and it had become stronger by the hour. Now, early in the afternoon, the forest ground was veiled by a few inches of snow, and the sky was of such a grey that they could not even guess where the sun stood.

Sighing deeply in frustration, Legolas chanced a look over his shoulder at Elladan and Aragorn. The fever of Aragorn had spiked during the ride, probably because of the weakened state of his body after the fire incident. Aragorn was pale, his eyes closed and his entire being radiated weariness and pain.

He had not spoken for hours, and it needed not the keen eyesight of an immortal to tell that Aragorn was channelling all his energy in the not so simple task to keep conscious and atop the horse.

They all knew that their friend and brother needed immediate medical care, and it hurt them deeply that there was nothing they could do to help him. Of course, they had given him their cloaks, most of the food, their soothing words and fake optimism, but they all knew that Aragorn needed more than that if he was to survive.

Seeing that Elladan watched him, Legolas smiled weakly and then turned back to the way in front of him. With all the whiteness around him, he had trouble recognizing the area, but after Elladan's words, he now knew where they were.

Soon, the first outcroppings of the valley of Imladris would be visible to their right. The cliff walls were high here, or deep, depending on the viewpoint, and there was no way for them to descent here into the valley. No, they would have to ride further west until they reached the path that would lead them into the belly of the valley and to the Last Homely House. Even in winter this path was mostly snow free, as the high stone walls hindered the snow to be blown onto the path.

Sighing once more and shuddering as some snow ran down the side of his face, Legolas tried to not think of the way that lay still ahead of them, but of the warmth of Imladris and the help they would receive once they reached his friends' home.

Similar thoughts raced through the twins' heads, and even Aragorn, at least for a time, thought about his home. But then the pain and coldness in his body made themselves known once more, and all he could do was clench his teeth, close his eyes and hope that he would not break under the strain.

Valar, he hurt. The pounding in his knee was so strong that, from time to time, he had problems keeping the shameful tears of agony back. His broken ribs screamed at him with every step the horse did, and the fever was sapping his strength. At least, he thought dryly, the freezing temperatures made his burned hand and shot shoulder numb, so that he could not even feel the agony that radiated off of them.

For hours now he was trying to hide the pain from seeping through his brave façade, but he knew not whether his act was convincing. But, his brothers and friend had gone through so much already, and he did not want to add to their emotional pain any more than necessary. He would pretend that he was alright as long as was possible if it meant that his companions could feel a bit better and more optimistic that they would make it out of this alive.

But, what really prevented him from giving in to the inviting darkness that prowled at the edges of his consciousness, was the fact that he had recognized the cliffs they were passing. Of course, he knew these cliffs, had travelled by them many times, more often than he could remember. No, it was that these were the exact cliff walls that had appeared in his vision only a day ago.

He recognized the trees, now laden with snow, and even some of the rock outcroppings. He had not seen _any_ cliff, no, but _these_ cliffs, there was no mistaking them. And deep inside, Aragorn dreaded the moment the sun would sink down behind the cliffs, only to paint them in a glorious orange and a deep, bloody red. What would happen when it was time? Who would get hurt?

Aragorn had not found the answer to the meaning of his dream, well, he was not even sure he really wanted to know, but he knew without a doubt that he could not stop the vision from coming true. On the other hand, the sun was veiled behind the clouds, and no rays would ever pierce them. Perhaps nothing would happen…

Alas, even in his pained and fevered state, Aragorn knew that visions could not be hindered from coming true by the weather.

--oOo--

Glorfindel cursed softly under his breath…for the tenth time in half an hour. By now, even his warriors, who knew better than to comment, were beginning to shot him worried glances. Never before had they seen their leader so frustrated…and furious.

Another mutter left Glorfindel's mouth as he circled a grey rock, "Stupid Wood-elf. Could have trained that horse at least in the _basics_ of behaving rational."

It was already the second day of their search, but they had not even left the borders of Imladris. As it seemed, Legolas's horse had taken great pleasure in riding hither and yonder, to cross brooks at random and to track back and forth as if it had not been sure which way to go. In Glorfindel's opinion, it was a small miracle that the animal had found its way to Imladris at all and had not been eaten by hungry wolves or run straight into some orcs on its way to who-knows-where.

Ducking under a low hanging branch, Glorfindel tried not to think of the implications of this. Perhaps the horse had been too afraid to travelled in a straight line. Maybe it had been chased. Was there someone or something out there that had been out to kill the horse? And why had it been alone in the first place?

Suddenly, he was ripped out of his musings by one of his warriors whom he had sent ahead to scout the way. The elf was riding back to the group, a stern look on his face. He pulled his horse to a stop beside Glorfindel.

"My Lord, you should come quickly. I think I found something."

"Ride ahead!" His heart hammering wildly in his chest, Glorfindel followed his warrior deeper into the forest, wondering what it was that the elf had found. There was nothing in this part of the woods: no orcs, wolves or caves. Only some long abandoned ruins stood here, an ancient reminder of times long forgotten.

And as it seemed, these ruins were the exact place they were heading. The grey stone flickered here and there through the trees, but the snow that covered most of the ruins obscured Glorfindel's view.

Once, this must have been some kind of watchtower; the stone walls rose high into the sky, although the topmost had collapsed many years ago. Huge, hewn stones and rocks were strewn across the place, deep furrows in the forest ground indicated where walls had once been, now filled with snow.

Stopping beside his warrior, who had already dismounted, Glorfindel took a long look around before he dismounted. There were no signs that someone had been here recently. The snow was white and clean, undisturbed and pristine.

Frowning, the golden haired seneschal dismounted gracefully, despite the two days in the saddle, and then nodded towards the warrior to show him what he had found. The elf made his way to one of the stone walls and then entered, ducking under the rather low hanging stony doorframe. There was no snow inside, as the wind had not yet had time to blow it into the ruins. It was dark inside the building, but not too dark for Glorfindel to see what his warrior was pointing out to him.

There, in one corner of the room, almost hidden in the gloom, lay some dirty rags, clearly some left behind bandages. Glorfindel let his keen eyes travel across the stone floor, taking in the unmistakable prints of feet, and then the signs that at least two persons had slept in the ruins; the dry needles the wind had blown into the room were churned and compressed.

So, they had been here, or at least someone had been here. And from the look of the tracks, an elf and a human. An elf and an injured human, judging by the irregularity of the human's footsteps. After a moment or two, Glorfindel moved closer to the rags and scattered them with his foot. There was no blood on them; perhaps they had simply been forgotten. After all, if one of Elrond's sons or Legolas had been here, they would have burned or buried spoiled bandages to not attract scavengers.

Seeing that there were no more signs to find inside the ruins, Glorfindel nodded towards the warrior, and the two exited the ancient building. The other elves were still atop their horses, waiting.

"I want you to circle the area. I want to know how many beings have been here and in which direction they went."

"Aye."

It took the warriors only a few minutes to return; the tracks that had been there had long been buried under white snow. But, that did not mean that the elves found nothing.

"My Lord, there were at least three horses. I found strands of hair in the bushes and on the bark of a tree and it is of three different colours. From what I can tell by the way the hair stuck to the plants, they are heading in the direction of Imladris. They head for the road along the cliffs."

"Good. We are riding!" And with that, Glorfindel nodded his approval to his warriors, jumped on his horse's back and set a brisk pace. Now that he knew he was on the right track, he was almost desperate to reach his friends.

_/Three horses. Then one is missing from the group, and it is not Aragorn. We found Legolas's horse…riderless…/_

But as quickly as the thought had come, Glorfindel banned it out of his mind. No, he was surely not the one who would tell the King of Mirkwood that something had happened to his only child.

--oOo--

Dagnir could not believe his luck. Well, he did not know why his own man had tried to kill him, but perhaps that had only been a mistake. The arrow could have been meant for the elf or the ranger and gone awry. After all, he knew not what had transpired in the forest before the shot, and the ruddy elves had not told him.

But that was as well because it gave him more time to work on his bounds. The bonds that he had already loosened a bit, the bonds that were now slick with his own blood, making it even easier to twist his wrists in them and free them…sooner or later.

While he had been sitting in the cold snow in the middle of the road, he had found a suitable sharp stone to cut the bonds, but the bloody arrow had made him lose his grip on the stone. But, that did not matter anymore. The blood would help him to free his hands, and once he was free, he would wait until the poison attacked again, and then in the overall confusion and worry, he would strike.

Dagnir knew that they were close to that elven city; he recognized the cliffs to the right from his previous visit three years ago. He would have to act soon. Despite his eagerness to act, he knew that he had no chance against the three elves, but that did not mean that he would not try to escape.

_/And if I can take the ranger with me, the better. After all, they will not kill me…and neither will they kill him./_

Smiling evilly, he twisted his wrists in the bonds. Soon…

--oOo--

Aragorn knew that the poison would attack him, but when it did, he was nevertheless totally unprepared. The road was making a turn to the left, disappearing behind some tall trees that blocked the view. When they rounded the bend, Aragorn felt his heart miss a beat, only to then resume beating double time.

He could not believe what he was seeing, this could not be true. There, before their horses on the road, lay the bloody and clearly dead form of a ranger. The man was clad in dark green and browns, a broken bow lay at his side, a sword was still in his lifeless fingers.

Aragorn swallowed. A dead ranger, here! Why, how…who? Almost in a panic, he grabbed Elladan's forearm.

"Dan, stop." Before his brother could even make an attempt to stop his horse, Aragorn was wriggling in the saddle trying to dismount.

"Ho, Estel, wait. What are you doing?" Elladan tightened his grip on his brother, holding him firmly in place.

"Dan, perhaps he is still alive, we must help him. Let me!" But Elladan would not let go. Elrohir and Legolas had stopped as well, staring at Aragorn with a mixture of worry and dread on their faces.

When Aragorn would not stop in his struggles to get down from the horse, Elladan pressed him against his own chest to keep him still. Even the relative weak fight to get down had made Aragorn gasp in pain, sweat was pooling on his brow and his face had turned a whiter shade than Elladan had seen in a long time.

When Aragorn gasped in pain, but then stopped his struggles and let his brother hold him still against his chest, Elladan asked quietly, "Estel, who could still be alive?"

And then it hit Aragorn that there was no ranger, no dead man in the middle of the road, whose red blood was tainting the snow. He gulped and closed his eyes, letting his head rest against Elladan's shoulder for a moment.

"Dan, look at the road in front of us and tell me what you see, please."

Confused, Elladan gazed out at the road in front of them, but all he saw were the trees and snow.

"I see nothing out of the ordinary, Estel. Only trees and snow and some rocks."

His eyes still closed, Aragorn asked faintly, "You see no…body, then? No blood?"

"Blood?" Elladan exclaimed, and unconsciously he pressed his brother tighter against his chest. Blood…Aragorn saw blood, and he had told him of someone who was lying on the road. Someone who was probably still alive.

Gently, Elladan guided his horse forwards a few steps, so that they came to a stop beside Elrohir and Legolas, who were looking at them concerned. Elrohir raised a questioning eyebrow, but Elladan shook his head. Instead he directed his words at Aragorn once more,

"Estel, do you see a body and blood?"

Elladan needed not to look at Elrohir to see his raised eyebrows or to see Legolas frown in worry. He knew they felt as he did.

Aragorn lifted his head from his brother's shoulder, and then opened his eyes almost tentatively as if he was afraid of what he would see. Probably he is, Elladan mused, probably he is.

They could see Aragorn look on a spot maybe ten yards in front of them, his face pale and his lips pressed together. But then, his eyes began to roam the road, from left to right, up and down the way, and then even up one or two trees. His breathing sped up, and he gripped the reins of the horse to tightly that his knuckles shone white through the skin.

He began to shake his head slowly from right to left, so as if it would make the things he saw go away. Oh, how he wished that would happen.

When Aragorn had opened his eyes, the picture before him at not changed. The dead ranger was still lying in the middle of the road, dull eyes staring into the sky, blood mingling with the white snow. But then, there had suddenly been a second dead ranger, then a third and a fourth. They were everywhere, on both sides of the road, up the way and directly in front of their horses; they were sprawled across the road, sat slumped against trees, one had obviously been hanged and another had been shot with such a force that the arrows had penetrated his body and the tree behind him, holding him on his feet even in death.

There was blood everywhere; the whole road was looking deadly red. There was no patch of snow that was not sprinkled with red dots. The men, all rangers, _his rangers_, had not died quick and easy. They all sported grievous and ugly wounds. Arrows were sticking out of chests and limbs, stomachs had been cut open, heads split, limbs cut off…it was horrid.

Aragorn felt the bile rise once more in his throat, but he swallowed thickly. This was not real, it was a vision, it was the poison, it was NOT real. But, still, he could not take his eyes off the gruesome scene. Here and there he could make out faces, rangers that he had known, had called his friends.

Why, why was the poison showing him this? Why was it tormenting him with the death of his rangers? But almost as soon as Aragorn had asked himself that question, he knew the answer. The poison was showing him this because it was what he feared. It was one of his innermost, buried fears: Failure. That he would fail his men and lead them to their death.

A small tremble raced down his spine, and before he knew it, he was trembling all over. He felt Elrohir and Legolas scoot a bit nearer and eye him worriedly, felt Elladan hold him tightly, but the scene before him held him captive. He could not tear his eyes away from what he saw.

And then suddenly, gentle fingers grasped his chin and forced his head to the side, and his eyes away from the road. He looked directly into Legolas's blue eyes, but the moment he let his gaze travel over Legolas's shoulder, he saw another dead ranger, face bloody and eyes vacant.

"Estel, look at me."

He could not, it was almost as if the dead rangers were looking at him. He could smell the copper blood and thought to hear their agonized screams of death. His trembling grew in intensity.

"Estel, look at me, mellon nin." Legolas tightened his grip on his chin, and it cost Aragorn a lot of strength to tear his look away from the dead.

"Right, that is it, Estel. Do not look at the road. Look at me." When Legolas was sure he had his friend's attention, he said firmly, "This is the poison, Estel. Whatever you see is not real. It is just your imagination. Do you understand?"

Oh of course, he knew that, but that did not help in the slightest. Still, he nodded, forcing his eyes to stay locked with Legolas's strong gaze, instead of flickering back to the dead rangers that were now practically everywhere.

Legolas smiled at him, and then released his chin, but he held the eye contact. Elrohir's soft voice reached Aragorn's ears then.

"Estel, what do you see?"

Aragorn knew that his brother was not asking out of curiosity, but out of concern. And they needed to know with what they had to deal here. But Aragorn knew the moment his brother asked him that he was not able to tell them all he saw.

"I see…dead humans. Everywhere. On the road, in the forest, in the trees…they are…everywhere."

"Oh, Estel. I am so sorry." Elladan hugged him from behind, placing his head close to his own and muttering soothing words of comfort into his ear. But that did not make the dead rangers go away.

Elrohir seemed to be more practical than his twin. "We should ride on. Now. Estel, do not look at them, close your eyes."

And with that, Elrohir directed his horse in front of the one Aragorn and Elladan were riding, determined to block Aragorn's view on the dead bodies. Little did he know that Aragorn could see Elrohir's horse step on the dead, injure the already dead bodies even further.

Aragorn, no matter how much he wished to be able to, could not close his eyes. And he knew it did not matter anymore; the horrid images that the poison was showing him were forever burned into his memory, to haunt him in nightmares and daydreams.

Elladan's horse had just made a step forwards to follow Elrohir's when something crashed into the horse, throwing Elladan forwards and into Aragorn, making the horse buck under them. Before they could act, yes, before they could so much as utter a sound of surprise, they were thrown from the horse and into the snow.

And then, all hell broke lose as Dagnir, a vicious gleam in his eyes, lunged for the sword of the dazed Elladan.

Tbc…

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**Is this considered a cliffy? ;-) Let me know what you think about this chapter, please. I start becoming increasingly worried about this story and its predictability (again...). Thankies!**


	31. 30 Over the edge

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N:** To** Elladan Lover**: No, I would not miss this chance to torture one of my favourite elves. ;-)

_Elvish translations:_

Daro: Stop, hold

Nev nu: Down here

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_"When you go through hardship and decide not to surrender, that is strength."_

_(Arnold Schwarzenegger)_

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Chapter 30: Over the edge

_And then, all hell broke lose as Dagnir, a vicious gleam in his eyes, lunged for the sword of __the dazed Elladan._

It all happened so quickly that neither Elrohir nor Legolas could do more than gasp in surprise when they heard the frightened whinnies of the other horse, and then turned just in time to see Elladan and Aragorn be thrown from the bucking horse to land in the churned snow. The next moment, Dagnir was upon Elladan, trying to wrestle the elf's sword from the scabbard.

"Elladan! Watch out!" Elrohir yelled, and then flung himself from the horse, heedless of the danger Dagnir could present to himself. But Elrohir's call of warning came too late; with a whoop of glee Dagnir unsheathed the long elvish sword, aimed a vicious kick at Elladan's head and quickly scrambled over to the still dazed Aragorn.

The fall from the horse had knocked the breath from his lungs and when he tried to breathe in, Aragorn swallowed a mouthful of snow, making him cough and splutter. The pain this caused in his body had him teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, but he forced the darkness back. Something had happened, something dreadful, and he knew he had to find out what it was.

Groaning, Aragorn rolled onto his back, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle in a feeble attempt to calm his screaming ribs. The agony that radiated off his knee was enough to make his eyes water as it was. Panting, he forced his eyes open; he needed to know what was going on, why their horse had spooked, why…Elrohir was screaming Elladan's name.

Blinking, the world around him slowly slid into focus, and Aragorn could see….the tip of a sword that rested only inches above his chest, right above his heart. Eyes widening and his heart beating so fast that he could feel it pound against his ribs, his gaze travelled up the silver blade, the hilt, the hand, arm and came to rest on the face of…Dagnir.

Aragorn tensed.His heart pounded rapidly, his breath came in shallow gasps, his legs felt suddenly weak and like pudding, and his eyes stayed fixed on his enemy's face. And what he saw there made his blood freeze.

There was no smile on Dagnir's face, no grimace of glee, no happiness. Instead, Dagnir looked calculating, determined and victorious. He looked like the man Aragorn had met three years ago, the Captain who had everything under control and who knew exactly what he was doing. But the mad glimmer was not completely gone from the man's eyes, and Aragorn felt it was only a matter of time before Dagnir would crack.

Laying unmoving on the ground, his grey eyes focused entirely on the man who held his brother's sword only inches from his chest, Aragorn could not see what was going on around him, but he could hear that Elrohir and Legolas had not been injured, but were trying to help him.

"Lower that sword, human, or you will regret it," Elrohir spat, but Aragorn could hear his brother's voice tremble slightly.

"I do not think so, elf," Dagnir answered calmly, moving the tip of the blade a bit lower, so that it rested against the fabric of Aragorn's cloak.

"Get away from him, you filthy maggot, or my arrow will kill you where you stand ere you take your next breath."

Had Aragorn not been in so much pain and in a life threatening situation, he would have smiled at Legolas's words. Trust the elf to sound confident even in the ugliest of situations. Still, Aragorn could not ignore the tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him that Legolas was in no condition to fire an arrow with the deadly accuracy needed in this situation. Not with that broken shoulder of his.

A smile tugged at Dagnir's lips. "Not even you will be quicker than my sword. The ranger would be dead before your arrow ever left your bow."

Silence settled over the scene, but the next moment Dagnir took over control. "UP!"

Confused, Aragorn blinked at the man, before his pain laden mind recognized that the command had been addressed at him. Frowning, he gazed up at Dagnir. This madman was not truly expecting him to get up, was he?

As it seemed, he was. "Get up, ranger, or I'll kill you here and now."

Aragorn gritted his teeth and slowly, very slowly, pushed his aching body up into a sitting position. Dagnir took a step back, but he never moved far away enough to give the elves a chance to intervene. The tip of Elladan's sword hovered only inches from Aragorn's chest, and should one of the elves make a move, Aragorn had not doubt that Dagnir would manage to impale him on the blade ere he drew his own last breath.

A spasm of pain shot through his knee as he tried to get up, and with a shameful groan he sank back to the ground, his eyes tightly closed in utter agony. Valar, his knee hurt even more than before, if that was at all possible. But what hurt him even more, was that Dagnir was watching his pitiful attempts to rise and could wallow in satisfaction, for it had been him who had injured him thusly.

As it seemed, Dagnir was feeling exactly as Aragorn had assumed. "Oh, come now, mighty ranger. Up on your feet, you weakling. Or is a bit of pain too much for a ranger? I always thought you lot are strong people. Must have been an exaggeration, then, for if you are any example, it is a wonder the rangers are still crawling across this earth. If you ask me, you are a shame for all who know you!"

Dagnir could not have hurt him more had he plunged the sword right into his heart. Was it true? Was he a weakling, a disgrace for his kin? Was that the reason the poison had shown him all the dead rangers, was indeed still showing him the bodies of his men?

A shiver raced through his body, and without conscious thought, Aragorn let his head hang. If he was no weakling, no shameful reminder of the weakness of mankind, then why had Dagnir been able to hurt him so? Why was it, the man was now standing above him with his brother's sword, holding his life in his hands? Had he not proven to be strong enough? To be unable to protect himself and those he loved?

"Estel, do not listen to him! He knows nothing about you!" Legolas told him in elvish, having seen the uncertainty in Aragorn's eyes and remembered the hallucinations the poison had planted inside his mind.

"Get up, scum, NOW!" Dagnir ordered angrily, moving the sword closer to Aragorn's neck. Time for delay was over.

Swallowing, Aragorn banished his pain to the back of his mind, gritted his teeth, and pushed his aching body into first a kneeling, and then a standing position. He swayed heavily, but before he could steady himself, Dagnir stepped behind him, wrapped an arm around his chest and pressed Aragorn against his own body.

Only then did Aragorn open his eyes, and a moment later, he felt the cold steel of the sword come to rest against his throat. But the blade was not trembling and so far no blood had been spilled. Aragorn could smell the sweat and blood that came from Dagnir, and feel the man's hot breath brush against his ear and cheek. It was disgusting and his stomach revolted against the nearness of his enemy, but there was nothing he could do.

Taking a shallow breath, Aragorn gazed at the scene in front of him. Elladan lay on the ground, unmoving, but Aragorn could see his chest lift in regular intervals. Elrohir was standing right in front of his brother, a look of cold fury on his face and his sword in his hand, his stance ready. To his left, Legolas stood near the horses, bow in hand, an arrow nocked. His arms were steady, but Aragorn could see that it pained him to hold the arrow on the string, and he hoped that Legolas would not harm himself further by pulling his bow with his injured shoulder.

It was Dagnir's throaty voice that interrupted his musings. "Now, scum, I think it is time for us to leave this illustrious company and seek out more privacy." And so low that only Aragorn could hear him, he added, "Time to resume our activities where we left off. I think there are some more ribs that need my attention."

Aragorn could not suppress the shudder that claimed his body at these words; only too well did he remember his last "private time" with Dagnir, and he had no wish to repeat that experience. But he could do nothing when Dagnir pressed the blade of the sword tighter against his throat and then pulled him backwards with him.

Both, Legolas and Elrohir made a step forwards, but Dagnir's taunting words made them stop in their tracks, "Oh, no, no, no. You stay right where you are if you want your little pet human to live a few minutes longer." He paused, but then said maliciously, "Do not worry. You will hear his screams ere I am finished with him."

And with that, he retreated even further, vanishing into the trees on the side of the road, leaving the elves standing in the snow, too worried for their friend and brother to move.

It took most of Aragorn's strength to stay on his feet, and he made no attempt to fight Dagnir; he knew there was no point in it. The blade pressed against his throat, and one false movement could cost him his life.

Dagnir was trampling through the forest, heedless of the noise he was making, but truly, there was no point in trying to be stealthy, either. Aragorn had no doubt that his brothers and Legolas would follow them, most likely by moving in the trees, but with the branches leafless and the snow covering the trees, there was a chance that they would not attempt this approach. Well, whatever his brothers and friend were planning to do, they had better do it soon.

Aragorn knew where they were heading, although he was not sure whether Dagnir knew that as well. In a few minutes, they would break through the dense underbrush that marked the edge of the forest and the beginning of the cliffs. And after that, there was a free fall down into the valley of Imladris, with hundreds of yards of nothingness before a very painful, if very short, contact with the stony bottom.

Another shudder raced through Aragorn. Perhaps Dagnir knew where they were heading, perhaps he knew it very well. It would be the perfect revenge, would it not? Three years ago, Dagnir had tumbled down a cliff, being left for dead. So, if the man managed to throw _him_ down the cliff, would that not be…justice? Suddenly, Aragorn knew that Dagnir knew where they were heading, and that the man had planned his attack carefully.

Dagnir panted; he had obviously problems keeping his balance, for he clutched at Aragorn to steady himself, which was not very wise, for Aragorn himself was unsteady on his feet, his injuries hampering him more than he would have liked. But still, Dagnir moved on and on, the blade never leaving Aragorn's throat, his hands never loosening their grip on him.

For long minutes they crashed through the forest as fast as they could, but the woods behind them fell quiet once they had passed through, and Aragorn wondered where his brothers and Legolas where. For surely, they were following them, were they not? They would not leave him alone…they would not…

Suddenly, Aragorn heard Dagnir whisper, "Almost, almost there, then he will pay, pay will he, oh yes… that scum will know how it feels…aye, he will…."

_/Not good, not good at all./_

Sweat appeared on Aragorn' brow, from the pain that shot through his already tired body, the fever that still raged inside of him, and the fear that suddenly crawled into his heart. What if his brothers and Legolas were not fast enough? What if they were heeding Dagnir's words and waited in the middle of the road? What if they decided to leave him alone?

/NO, that is ridiculous! They would never do that. They have proven time and again how much they love you. Look what they have done to bring you home. They would never abandon you, never/

No, he knew they would not, but Aragorn knew that even elves could not save everyone, and that sometimes they were simply not fast enough or not precise enough. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping that this was not one of those cases.

Suddenly, his half-run through the forest came to an abrupt stop when Dagnir stopped in his tracks, panting heavily but cackling in glee.

_/I said he would lose it sooner or later and crack./_

"We are there, scum. See?" And with that, Dagnir forcefully pushed Aragorn around, the sword still at his throat. The view that met Aragorn's eyes stole his breath away. For a fleeting moment he wished that what he saw was merely a dream, that it was nothing but the poison playing a cruel trick with his senses, but he knew it was neither a dream nor the poison.

They stood only a few yards from the edge of the cliffs, having left the forest behind them. There before him, the valley of Imladris spread for miles, so far that he could barely make out the other side of the valley and the cliff walls that rose mightily into the sky. A sky that was no longer dark and foreboding, but a sky in which the clouds had opened in various places, letting the evening sun shine through and paint the cliff walls a bright orange. A bright orange that would only too soon turn into a bloody red.

"A look at that, scum. Even the Valar seem to be smiling at your coming demise," Dagnir said, before he ruthlessly pushed Aragorn into the direction of the cliff's edge.

Aragorn's mind reeled. Where were his brothers? Where was Legolas? And what could he do to stop this from happening? From letting his vision come true? A crazy thought came to him, but it was all he had and so he seized it and asked,

"You would rather kill me now than wait for the poison to do it?"

Dagnir stopped in his tracks; they were only a few feet from the edge now, so close that Aragorn could feel the slightly warmer winds waft up at him from the bottom of the valley.

"It was a pleasure to see the effects of the poison, but I fear the elves would not let me stay to watch your further agony. Truly a shame, I would have loved to see you beg for your life." Dagnir resumed to push Aragorn into the direction of the cliff, before he suddenly stopped once more.

"That is…why not?" Without warning, he removed the sword from Aragorn's throat, only to thrust the hilt of the sword into Aragorn's temple. The hit was not strong enough to knock him unconscious, but fierce enough to bring him to his knees and make his vision blur.

When it had cleared once more, Aragorn lifted his head and looked up. Dagnir was standing in front of him, his back to the cliff, the sword in hand and the blade resting on Aragorn's left shoulder, close to his neck. One movement of Dagnir, and the man would either cut his throat or behead him.

Dagnir's eyes glimmered evilly. "So, ranger, you can begin."

"Begin with what?" Aragorn asked before he could stop himself.

"Well, to beg me for your miserable life, of course," Dagnir told him, eyes wide in astonishment, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a moment, Aragorn was too surprised to say anything. There was no more doubt in his mind that Dagnir had completely lost it, if he ever had it in the first place. He was not truly assuming that he would beg for his life, was he? That was … ridiculous.

No, Aragorn knew he would not beg for his life, not Dagnir, not like this. Never. A fire that had been absent in his eyes since this ordeal had started sparked to life, and within moments the tiny spark grew to a raging fire.

And it seemed that Dagnir saw it too, for he moved the blade an inch closer to Aragorn's neck, "Now, start! Or I shall end you life here and now."

With a grim smile, Aragorn lifted his chin. He knew that Dagnir would kill him this way or the other. And, Valar, he had no intention to go like a coward. If he had to go, then with his honour and dignity intact.

"Then kill me now, for you will not hear what you wish."

"You will beg me for your life scum, NOW!" Dagnir yelled, and his arm that held the sword began to tremble slightly. The man's eyes glanced briefly at the forest behind Aragorn as if he awaited the elves to appear any moment.

"They will kill you, Dagnir, very, very slowly. Elves have no pity upon their enemies, and your death will be much more painful than mine will be." Aragorn knew not how much Dagnir knew about elves, but it could not be bad to make him afraid of them. And deep down a tiny voice told him, that maybe, he was not even lying or exaggerating at all.

"No, they will not get me. Never. And now, say it!" The blade moved another inch, and now the steel pressed against Aragorn's throat once more, shaking slightly and drawing blood immediately.

But he was beyond the point of caring. He knew not why his brothers and Legolas were not with him and what was hindering them from coming to his aid, but if this was the end, he would make sure that he would not disgrace himself by begging for his life.

Aragorn leant forwards a bit, ignoring the blade that cut his skin ever deeper, and turned hard, grey eyes upon Dagnir. He said nothing, letting his gaze speak for him, and he felt the blade tremble stronger and Dagnir's eyes flicker. There were only few who could stand his stare, and he knew that this Gondorian was not among them.

"Say it! Speak!"

"You told me that you once were a Captain in Gondor, a Guard of the City of Kings, an honourable man. What would the Lord Steward say if he saw you now?" Even Aragorn did not know where this came from, but now that he had spoken the words, he could not take them back.

"What?" Dagnir asked, confused, needing a moment to keep up with this change of topic. But then, he said hotly, "The Steward is a nobody; he does not understand what needs to be done to keep Gondor safe. He is a weakling and hides behind the thick walls of his city."

"But the King, should he ever return, he would understand your actions?" Aragorn asked.

"Aye, he would. Isildur was a great man, and his heir would understand the need of Gondor far better than any Steward. Gondor needs a strong hand. We have to take what we need and want to fight the enemy. Oh yes, the King would understand."

Aragorn snorted, "You know nothing. You are nothing but a thief, a murderer and a traitor. What you did you did not for Gondor, but for yourself, to satisfy your greed. What Isildur did, he did for his people; his motives were altruistic in the beginning, even if he was betrayed in the end."

Why did he say that, Aragorn thought confusedly. Did he truly believe what he had said? That Isildur had acted out of altruistic motives? Maybe, maybe not. But if it meant to give his brothers and friend more time to come up with a plan, then he would do and say whatever was needed to stop Dagnir from killing him.

For a moment, Dagnir said nothing, but then his eyes seemed to burn and he took a menacing step closer towards Aragorn. "You…scum, are nothing. Not more than dirt under the heel of my boot! What would a mere ranger such as you know of Gondor's great heroes? Nothing!"

Before Aragorn had the chance to say anything, Dagnir reached inside his boot with his free hand and pulled something out, only to then hold it right in front of Aragorn's eyes. Dagnir's voice sounded higher, so enraged was he,

"And you…you have the audacity to carry something like THIS! This belongs to a great hero, not to unworthy scum, such as you. Where did you get it, scum, WHERE?"

But Aragorn could not answer; his eyes were fixed on the object in Dagnir's hand. A silver ring with two serpents with emerald eyes, devouring each other and supporting a crown of golden flowers. The ring of Barahir, his ring.

"Answer me!" Dagnir slammed his fist that still held the ring into the side of Aragorn's face, making his head snap to the side and blood trickle down his cut lip. Rightening himself, Aragorn stared at the ring when he answered, "It was given to me…by my father."

"Your father? And where did he get it from? Stole it from whom?"

Anger flared in Aragorn. How dare this…miserable wretch call his father, whether human or elven, a thief? How dare he accuse his father, human this time, who had fought all his life against he forces of evil, who had given his very life to protect others, of being unworthy?

Before Aragorn knew what he did, and what the consequences were, he said angrily, "Hold you tongue, for you have no right to talk to me thus. This ring was given to Barahir by Finrod himself during Dagor Bragollach as a pledge of his aid to Barahir and his kin. And Finrod held his oath even after Barahir's death and gave his life for Beren in the dungeons of Minas Tirith. Arvedui gave it after the fall of Arthedain to the chieftain of the Lossoth, but it was taken back under great peril and has been in my family ever since. So, do not talk about the ring as if you knew what it is you hold in your hands, for you know nothing!"

Stunned, Dagnir looked at Aragorn's face, his own pale and his hand holding the ring trembling. How could a ranger know so much about the ring, so much more than he did? How was it possible that a man from the wild knew about the Dagor Bragollach, when he, Dagnir, had only heard about it by chance when he had still dwelled in Gondor? Who was this ranger? Could it be that…that his claim was true? That he was the rightful owner of this ring, that he was…

Shock tore though Dagnir as he beheld Aragorn's face. Gone was the tired, hurting young ranger, and instead a strong and determined man kneeled before him, with eyes as clear as a mountain lake and a gaze as sharp as that of an eagle. His look seemed to pierce his very being, his very soul and to lay bare his inner thoughts. There was strength in that gaze and wisdom beyond the ranger's age, and suddenly Dagnir had the strange desire to sink to his knees and bow his head.

No, this is ridiculous, he thought. And before he could be held captive by that piercing gaze any longer, before he could convince himself that maybe he had made a mistake, he pulled his hand back and let his crash into Aragorn's head once more. Once the eye contact was broken, Dagnir took a shuddering breath and yelled furiously,

"No! No! Now, scum, say it. Beg for your life, now!"

Wiping a hand slowly over his mouth and feeling the blood trickle down his fingers, Aragorn took a calming breath and gazed up at his captor, but he said nothing. And then, he saw the sun sink deeper behind the clouds, but some of her rays reached the cliffs and painted the stone in a deep, bloody red. The red of his vision. Aragorn knew, this was it. Should something happen, it would happen now.

And happen, it did. Suddenly, the whiz of an arrow reached his ears, and in the next second Dagnir screamed in pain, his free hand clasping the shaft of an arrow that stuck out of his shoulder. Before Aragorn knew what he was doing, he pushed himself upwards and towards Dagnir.

The two men crashed into the snow and slid a few feet before they came to a halt, Dagnir's head already dangling over the edge of the cliff. Aragorn gripped the wrist of the hand that held the sword tightly, and without mercy he slammed the hand down onto the ground, trying to make Dagnir lose his grip on the weapon.

But alas, the snow cushioned the normally effective movement, and so Dagnir retained his hold on the weapon. Suddenly, the haze of shocked pain that had lingered in Dagnir's eyes vanished and with a roar of rage, he twisted the sword in his hand in one quick motion, making the side of the deadly blade of the weapon point at Aragorn's unprotected side.

Dimly Aragorn heard someone yell his name, but his entire being was focused on Dagnir and the ring he still held in his fist. Slamming his fist into Dagnir's face, he tried to stun the man. He did not want to kill him, for he had not forgotten that this man probably knew about the antidote to the poison, and was thus his and his brothers' only chance for survival. But still, he could not let him escape.

Once more Aragorn tried to knock the sword out of Dagnir's grip, but then something entirely unexpected happened. Grinning evilly, Dagnir said coldly, "No indeed, for a mere moment I believed your tale, but now I see it was a lie. You could never be of his great line."

And with that, Dagnir pulled his knees towards his chest in one powerful motion, and with the help of his free hand and his knees he pushed Aragorn's body up and then in a kind of somersault over his body and the edge of the cliff.

Rolling onto his stomach and grimacing at the pain that erupted in his shoulder, Dagnir got to his feet, in his moment of complete happiness that he had finally accomplished his revenge completely forgetting the elves, and stared down into the valley, hoping to see the shattered body of Aragorn.

The next moment, a second arrow pierced his back, right between his shoulder blades. The force of the projectile pushed him forwards, and a second later he felt nothing but air under his feet as he lost his footing and tumbled over the edge of the cliff, a choked scream of horror on his lips. A strange feeling filled his stomach, as if he had missed a step on the stairs and his fall seemed to be endless, but after only a few long moments, he crashed onto the rocks and boulders at the bottom of the valley, in one hand Elladan's sword and in the other the ring of Barahir.

When Dagnir and Aragorn had disappeared into the forest, Elrohir's and Legolas's only thought had been to follow them. But when they started to follow them, a sound had alerted them to a new danger.

Hoof beats reached their ears, coming from the East, and only a few seconds later the ground shook with the horses' steps. Taking cover in the trees on either side of the road, Legolas and Elrohir waited for the riders. They knew that there was no time to drag the still unconscious Elladan out of harms way; therefore, they had to protect him first and then seek out Aragorn.

But they should not have worried. A few moments later, four elvish horses and their riders emerged from the shadows of the trees, Glorfindel riding at the front. They quickly left their cover, filled Glorfindel and his warriors in on what had happened and then hastened after Dagnir and Aragorn.

And they had nearly come too late. When they had broken through the trees, they had seen Dagnir standing over their kneeling brother, a sword at Aragorn's throat and screaming on the top of his lungs. Quickly, Legolas had shot Dagnir, aiming for the shoulder so as not to kill the man.

The ensuing struggle had been too short and quick to intervene, but when Aragorn had tumbled over the cliff's edge in an unexpected turn of events, Glorfindel had shot Dagnir before any of them had been able to stop him. For, Glorfindel knew not that Dagnir was perhaps the only person that could save them from the poison. And so, Dagnir had found his end by falling down the cliff.

But, what of Aragorn?

--oOo--

Aragorn saw a shape hurl by him as he clung desperately to some old roots that stuck out of the cliff walls, and he knew that Dagnir had finally met his end. Ironically, the man had now died like he should have three years ago. He had not been able to escape his fate after all.

Cringing in pain as the dry roots cut into his palms and fingers, Aragorn tried to control his ragged breathing. The movement of Dagnir had caught him unawares, but before he had fallen too far, he had been able to snag onto some roots that jutted out of the cliff wall. The abrupt stop had nearly pulled his arms out of its sockets and the pain in his arms and shoulders was intense.

_/At least I am not any longer kneeling on my injured knee./_

The thought was so sarcastic that he could not help the chuckle that escaped him.

_/Wonderful, now I am as crazy as Dagnir./_

Taking a deep breath to control himself, Aragorn closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool stone. For the moment, he was safe. The roots he was clinging to were sturdy and would hold his weight a little while longer, but he was not certain how long he himself could hold on.

Blood was slowly trickling down his hand and wrist, making his grip slippery, and already he felt an immense tiredness replace the adrenalin that had kept him on his feet so far. A shudder raced through his body, and a gust of wind made his cloak flutter around his form. The rays of the sun vanished completely behind the snow clouds and darkness slowly claimed the world.

And with the fading light and his failing strength, Aragorn knew that fate was indeed cruel, if it allowed him to come so far, so close to home, only to then take his only way of survival away from him. For, Dagnir had been the only one who had known what kind of poison had been used on them, and perhaps even if there was an antidote.

He pressed his body closer against the cliff wall to present as small a target as possible for the wind, and probed with his feet along the wall for a ledge or anything that might give him the chance to take the strain off his arms. He knew, in his weakened and injured state, he had no way of holding his own weight for long. Aragorn needed help…quickly.

Finally, after searching for what seemed like ages to him but were in reality merely some long moments, his right foot found a protruding rock that would hold his weight, and Aragorn readily seized this opportunity to release his murderous grip on the roots a bit. The plants might be rooted deeply into the cliff wall, but that did not mean that they would support his weight indefinitely.

Now, feeling a bit more secure in his current predicament, Aragorn lifted his head and gazed up the wall. He had fallen a few yards before he had been able to stop his fall, and he knew that he would never make it up the cliff on his own. The wall was too steep, the rocks too few to grip and his strength would not see him through this.

No, he needed help, and so he did the only thing he could really do.

"Ro! Legolas! Nev nu!"

His call had barely left his mouth when he heard someone call his name in response, and only a moment later some pebbles and chunks of snow trickled down on him from above. Averting his face, Aragorn waited for a moment, before he looked up once more. In the quickly fading light he could not make out who it was that stood so close to the edge, but then the person moved and he caught sight of golden hair.

_/Glorfindel? What is he doing here/_

But his confusion quickly morphed into trepidation when the roots he was still clinging to creaked ominously under his weight and his arms began to shake from exhaustion.

"Hurry! I cannot hold on much longer!"

"Hold on Estel, we'll get you up!" Legolas yelled down to him, and when Aragorn next gazed up to the edge of the cliff, he could see his friend's face peeking over the ledge, his long blond hair falling around his face. Relief flashed across Legolas's face, but there was also worry and fear.

_/Thank Eru he is well/_ Aragorn thought, before he tried to find a suitable rock for his other foot, for the roots were now creaking continuously and slowly ripping apart under his hands.

Darkness was slowly ascending, and with the heavy snow clouds, the face of Legolas was quickly no more than a brighter speck in the twilight. And then, a second head appeared beside Legolas, but Aragorn could not tell whether it was Elladan or Elrohir.

_/If Dan is conscious at all after that blow to his head./_

"Estel, hold on for a bit longer! Glorfindel is getting a rope and then we will haul you up." So, it was Elrohir who looked down on him, Aragorn decided, when he heard his brother's frightened voice.

'Hold on', Aragorn thought darkly, 'that is easier said than done.' His searching foot found nothing to hold his weight, as the white stone crumbled every time he thought he had found a foothold, and the pain in his arms and shoulder increased by the minute.

His injured shoulder had reawakened and was sending stabs of pain through his body, and the pull on his ribs made him gasp for air. Valar, if his family and friends did not hurry, they could scratch him off the rocks at the bottom.

Flinching in pain when one of the dry roots snapped and cut his already bleeding fingers, Aragorn slowly but surely realized that he would probably not make it. How was he to grab the rope and hold on to it with his injured hands and exhausted body? No, he realized that there was no way he would be able to hold onto the rope and let the elves pull him up. Not in his injured state.

But, it seemed the moment he thought this, his friends and brothers had come to the same conclusion, for Legolas shouted down to him,

"Estel! Glorfindel will come down to get you in a moment. Hold on, will you?"

"Legolas, hurry." And after a moment he added, albeit a bit softer, "Please."

Some more snow fell down from the edge of the cliff, and then a tall shadow with golden hair slowly leaned over the edge and then bit by bit descended towards him. It took Glorfindel only a few long moments to reach his side, for his warriors were letting him down, using their combined strength to hold his weight.

When Glorfindel was on Aragorn's level, he shouted towards his warriors, "Daro! Let down the second rope!"

Then, he turned his head and looked at Aragorn, frowning despite the small smile that tugged at his lips."Mae govannen, Estel."

"Mae govannen, Glorfindel, nice of you to pay me a visit."

Aragorn could see that Glorfindel had wound the elvish rope tightly around his middle, using his legs to steady him against the wall and holding onto the rope with one hand, while he used the other to balance him. The elf solely relied on his warriors' strength to hold him, and it was then that Aragorn knew that Glorfindel had only taken his best elves with him; for Aragorn had no doubt that Glorfindel had been out searching for them.

"I would not miss this airy view of Imladris, Estel."

A small smile played around Aragorn's lips, but the next moment a gust of cold wind swept past him and made his cloak flutter, forcing him to press his body tighter against the stone and close his eyes. Then, Aragorn felt a strong arm being wrapped around his middle, but he knew that should his hold fail now, Glorfindel would probably not be able to keep him from falling down.

"I got you, Estel, and I will not let you fall. I promise," Glorfindel told him without a trace of his former fake merriment, and Aragorn wanted to believe him, but after all that had happened, he had some difficulty doing so.

But still he nodded, forcing his eyes open and taking a deep breath. "They are taking their time up there. I enjoy hanging around, doing nothing, but I have enough of this…airy view of Imladris, as you call it." Aragorn tried to smile at Glorfindel, but the rock he was using to hold part of his weight suddenly broke away from the wall, and with a gasp of surprise and pain Aragorn slammed against the cliff and slide down a few inches, before his hold on the roots and Glorfindel's arm around his waist stopped his fall.

"The rope! Where is the rope?" Glorfindel yelled, and a moment later a second elvish rope was thrown down to them. Glorfindel grabbed it, and without further ado, he tried to wrap it around Aragorn's middle, but he was unable to do that with the use of only one hand.

"Estel, listen, I will let go of you for a moment, alright? Are you ready?" When Aragorn nodded, Glorfindel released his hold on him, albeit slowly, to make sure that Aragorn was secured to the wall and would not fall. He then quickly wound the rope around Aragorn, knotting a loop that rested under Aragorn's arms and was tight enough so that he would not slip through.

That done, Glorfindel gave Aragorn a supportive smile. "Ready, little one?"

Taking a deep breath to steel himself against the pain that would inevitably come once the rope around him was pulled tight, Aragorn smiled back as good as he could. "More than ready."

Nodding, Glorfindel took hold of his own rope and shouted to his warriors, "Pull us up, slowly!" The next moment, the two ropes began to move gently upwards, but the moment the rope around Aragorn was pulled tight, he could not suppress a groan of pain. The pressure on his injured shoulder was enough to set his whole side on fire, and even if he would have wanted to, Aragorn was no longer able to hold onto the roots that had saved his life, and neither was he able to keep his body from falling against the cliff. His legs and arms were simply not able to keep him off the stone.

"Hold!" Glorfindel yelled, and a moment later he scooted closer to Aragorn, placing a hand against his cheek. "Estel?"

Opening fevered eyes that he had not even noticed closing, Aragorn glanced at Glorfindel, but the smile that he attempted turned into a grimace when the pain in his shoulder and ribs stole his breath.

"Oh Estel, what did they do to you? Come here." And a moment later, Aragorn felt Glorfindel mov behind him, careful not to touch him too much and press him tighter against the wall. Glorfindel then wrapped one of his arms around his chest, using the other to grip Aragorn's rope instead of his own. With gentle but considerate strength the golden haired elf pressed his feet against the cliff, and when his body slowly moved away from the wall, Aragorn's body was forced to do the same.

Seeing what his friend was doing, Aragorn tried to help and stem his own legs against the wall, but before he had truly done anything, Glorfindel said softly, his voice full of compassion, "No, Estel, let me do the work. Hold onto the rope and do not move too much. And do not look down."

Aragorn nodded, and in that moment he was eternally grateful that Glorfindel had found them, for he was not sure that either Elrohir, Elladan or Legolas would have been able to help him in the way Glorfindel did right now.

"Alright up there! Pull!"

And that they did, pulling Glorfindel and Aragorn slowly up the steep cliff wall, until finally they reached the edge and Elrohir and Legolas took hold of their arms and helped them onto safe ground.

The moment Aragorn's body was hauled over the edge and landed safely into Legolas's arms, his strength completely left him, as did his energy, and with a soft sigh he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness.

"Estel? Estel!" Legolas felt Aragorn go limp in his arms, and fear tore through his body, drowning out even the pounding pain in his shoulder that had sparked to new life the moment he had released the arrow that had shot Dagnir in the shoulder.

Gently, Legolas turned Aragorn around so that he could see his face, and when he saw the paleness of the skin and the sweaty forehead, he felt his heart beat double as fast as before.

"Estel?" He put two slightly trembling fingers under Aragorn's jaw to feel for a pulse, but when he felt the quick and weak pulse, his fear only grew stronger. They needed to take Aragorn to the Last Homely House. Quickly.

"Legolas?" Elrohir, who had helped Glorfindel out of the loop that had secured him, kneeled down beside his friend and brother. "How is he?"

"Worse than before. We need to make haste." Blue eyes bore into dark ones, and when Elrohir saw the pallor of Aragorn's skin, he did not doubt his friend's words.

Turning to Glorfindel, he found that the golden haired elf was no longer at their side. Looking around in confusion, Elrohir just saw a strand of golden hair disappear into the forest. The other warriors were rolling up the rope and two of them had already taken off their own cloaks and were approaching them.

"Thank you." Elrohir took the offered cloaks with a smile, and without another word he wrapped both cloaks around Aragorn, not minding his own and Legolas's discomfort, seeing that they had already given up their own cloaks the day before to keep Aragorn warm.

A few moments passed, but then Elrohir knew why Glorfindel had left them. The snorts of horses reached his ears and a second later Glorfindel reappeared with the horses, Elladan on top of one of them.

"Dan!" Elrohir jumped to his feet when he saw his brother. The last time he had seen Elladan, he had lain in the middle of the road, still unconscious from the blow Dagnir had dealt him, with one of Glorfindel's warriors at his side to make sure that he was alright and that no harm befell him.

Elladan's eyes locked with his brother's and then looked over Elrohir's shoulder towards Legolas and Aragorn. A frown appeared on his brow, but he said nothing. Before Elrohir knew what happened, Glorfindel had sped past him, taken Aragorn out of the protesting Legolas's arms, and settled the unconscious man on Asfaloth. Glorfindel mounted quickly behind him, making sure that Aragorn was sitting as secure and as comfortable as possible.

Without a word, Glorfindel turned Asfaloth around, facing the forest. When none of the other elves moved but only gaped at him, he turned around and lifted an eyebrow, "What are you waiting for? Better weather?" And with that, he slowly guided his horse into the forest.

It took Elrohir and Legolas only a few seconds to mount, followed quickly by the other warriors, and then they sped after Glorfindel, only to find him waiting on the road. When he saw them, he nodded, and without a word, the group started towards Imladris, to finally reach the safety of the Last Homely House.

Tbc…

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I thank all the wonderful people who send me reviews, for that is what makes me really happy, to know that you like this story enough to let me know. All the other 410 people who read the last chapter but did not review, I want to kindly ask to review this time. I write this for your and my enjoyment, but with the current arrangement, it is rather one sided. g Please, is it too much asked to send a tiny reply? Tell me whatever you want, I am not choosy. Thank you. Oh, andjust in case this was too nice and not clear enough, I neeeed some more reviews to satisfy my Muse. She kind of lives on them. ;-)


	32. 31 The End of the Beginning?

**Beta : Chris! Thank you!**

**A/N:** First of all, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the wonderful reviews. I was so flabbergasted to hear that so many people like this story and especially_ what_they like. I thank you so much. It means a lot to me to know that you like the story, although English is not my native tongue. Your support is awesome and it is what keeps me going. So, thank you all very, very much.

Second, I have been asked where the quotes come from. Most of them I already knew, but the rest comes from the ThinkExist (dot) com :-)

Third, a lot of you told me that Aragorn has suffered enough and that I should stop torturing him. Mh...I thought that was the idea behind this story. LoL. Now honestly, the story has reached the third part of the "Angst-Sandwich".Fun-Angst-, now...won't tell. But what I can tell you is that the story is not over yet, the angst not over and the boys, although back in town, not yet rescued. "evil grin"

So, enough rambling, on with the story!

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_"This is not the end. This is not even the beginning of the end. It is, instead, the end of the beginning."  
(Anonymous)

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_

Chapter 31: The End of the Beginning?

The party made their way through the snowy forests that surrounded the hidden valley of Imladris. In low voices the twins and Legolas told Glorfindel everything that had happened since they had left home, and with every word they spoke the frown on Glorfindel's face grew stronger.

Then, when Elrohir had ended, he shook his head sadly. "Are you telling me I probably killed the only one who knew about the poison?"

Exchanging a quick glance with his twin, Elrohir answered, "You had no choice, Glorfindel. It was the only thing you could do."

But Glorfindel only nodded and stayed silent. They could all see his hold on the still unconscious Aragorn tighten, but they said nothing. They knew that as soon as Aragorn woke up, he would tell Glorfindel exactly the same thing. That it had not been his fault and that he did not hold it against him. Elladan and Elrohir were poisoned as well, and they were simply glad that Dagnir was dead. Deep down they both knew that the man would have never told them what they wanted to know.

They rode for a few hours, the sun having sunk behind the horizon, dipping the world into darkness. But the clouds had finally decided to move on and, therefore, the silver stars twinkled down from the sky and illuminated their path. The full moon shone brightly, guiding them home, and in the stillness of the night, the elves felt a sense of peace wash over them. It would be over soon, they were sure. Elrond would know what to do.

The outline of the path that would lead them down into the valley came into view, and the twins and Legolas sighed in relief. Had it truly been only two weeks ago that they had left Imladris? So much had happened, so much pain and suffering.

_/And it is not over yet. At least not for the twins and Aragorn/ _Legolas thought as he glanced at Aragorn, who lay unmoving in Glorfindel's strong and protective arms.

_/Had Glorfindel come only half an hour later, only a few minutes…/_

Shaking his head to get rid of these thoughts, Legolas let his gaze travel over the cliff walls. Not only the stars sparkled on the walls and waterfalls, but also many other lights. It was almost as if the valley was burning, so bright did it shine in the night.

_/They are all awake, waiting for us/ _A small smile played around Legolas's lips. Maybe this was not the home of his family, but it was one of the few places in Middle-earth that _he_ called home. The Last Homely House was a place of peace and quiet, healing and resting. And in Legolas's opinion, it was one of the places he visited even in his dreams, when he was in Mirkwood.

Lord Elrond was one of the best healers in Middle-earth, probably even the best. If someone had the answer to their questions, it was Elrond. Aye, as soon as they would enter the courtyard, Elrond would order his sons to the healing wing, make them drink awful teas and force them to stay in bed. Of course they would all protest and try to sneak away in the middle of the night, using the trees and bushes for cover. They would break into the kitchens and steal some of the cookies the cooks had made, and then eat them in Aragorn's room, laughing and telling stories till dawn.

Legolas's horse stumbled slightly in the snow, and he quickly tightened his hold on the reins. A sharp pain shot through his broken shoulder, making him gasp softly. Elladan gave him a concerned look, but Legolas shook his head and a moment later Elladan refocused on Aragorn, worry etched into his features.

And with a sudden pang in his heart, Legolas knew that it would be different this time. They would not try to sneak away to steal cookies. There would be no order to stay in bed, for Aragorn was in no shape to leave it anyway. And if they could not find the antidote…

A shudder raced down Legolas's back as he took in the grim look on Glorfindel's face. No, this time it would be different. Maybe they had escaped the claws of the crazy killer, but that did not mean that they had escaped fate as of yet.

For a few more moments they rode in silence, two warriors at the front, two in the back and they with Glorfindel in the middle, when suddenly one of the vanguard lifted his hand and stopped his horse. He tilted his head to the side and listened intently, before he abruptly drew his bow from his back, nocked an arrow and aimed.

The rest of Glorfindel's warriors did the same, as did the twins, and Glorfindel tightened his hold on Aragorn and drew his sword. The twins moved their horses in front of Glorfindel and Aragorn, and Legolas quickly took position to the side of them. Then, they waited. None of them doubted the keen hearing of the warrior.

A few moments later, Legolas could hear what had alarmed the warrior. He could hear hoof beats coming from the North, not exactly from the valley, but rather from another path that came down from the North and crossed their own path.

Perhaps the other search party returned, but Legolas doubted it, and a moment later he was sure that it was not the party, indeed, that it were not even elves. The horses were too loud and he could hear the clinking of the horse tack. Most elves rode bareback, unless they were in a fight or hunted, and it was too late in the night for either. No, whoever was coming their way, it had to be humans.

Despite the pain in his shoulder, Legolas drew his twin knives. Humans…that did not mean a threat per se, but neither that it was safe to let down his guard. Oh no, he would be prepared if this were some more of Dagnir's men. They would not lay hands on his friend again!

As it seemed, the other elves had come to the same conclusion, because the rearguard came closer and the vanguard moved a few steps ahead, ready to intercept the riders before they could come close.

The road bend to the left right before them, which gave them the advantage of surprise. The other riders did not stop in their travel, obviously oblivious to the presence of the elves. And when they rounded the bend, it would be too late for them to reach their weapons.

A tension settled around the small group from Imladris, but they did not move and instead waited for the riders to round the bend. They could hear the horses snort softly, could hear the creaking of the stiff leather and they could even hear it when the riders shifted in their saddles.

And then, the first rider appeared. One of the warriors instinctively aimed his bow at him and said loudly, "Hold!"

The rider pulled at the reins and his horse stopped in its tracks, throwing its head back and snorting irritably. But the rider calmed his horse quickly, and then he gazed at the warrior. Two, three, four other riders appeared at his side, their hands on the hilts of their swords, but none of them made the foolish attempt to unsheathe it.

Legolas saw now that it were indeed humans, but they had drawn the hoods of their cloaks so deep into their faces to protect them against the cold of the wintry night that he could not see their faces.

The two warriors in the front blocked the humans' view at the rest of the group, for which Legolas was glad. These humans were no mere travellers; the horses were well trained, they carried swords and looked almost identical with their cloaks and packs. Almost like…

But before he could finish that thought, the warrior who had spoken earlier said in Westron,

"You are entering the realm of Lord Elrond. State your purpose or leave again."

The human who had appeared first around the bend straightened in his saddle, and when he spoke, Legolas's heart lifted. He knew that voice.

"I thought the realm of Imladris invited all weary travellers and turns none away who seek shelter. But that is not our purpose. We wish to speak to Lord Elrond on urgent matters concerning one of our friends."

The twins sighed audibly in relief, before they put away their weapons and rode up to the rider. The warriors, seeing that their Lord's sons seemed to know the riders, relaxed a bit but kept their weapons at hand.

Extending his arm in the formal elvish gesture of greeting, Elladan said, "Mae govannen, Halbarad, Ranger of the North."

Halbarad removed his hood and bowed his head, surprise written on his face. Legolas saw that the other rangers did likewise, and he could now clearly see that it were indeed rangers. The dark hair and grey eyes gave them away easily.

"I am surprised to see you here, my Lords," Halbarad said, letting his eyes travel over the warriors and the rest of the elvish party that stood in the shadows. "And to be honest, I had not anticipated such a …frosty…welcome."

Elrohir sighed, "It is not the custom of the elves to greet their guest thus, but recent events force us to be careful."

"Recent events?" Halbarad frowned. "We received an urgent message from Lord Elrond, telling us to look out for Strider, but he did not state precisely what had happened. When Strider did not arrive at our camp, we became worried."

"Aye indeed, but you are too late, Halbarad…" Elladan began, when Halbarad interrupted him, fear and worry in his voice.

"Too late? What do you mean, too late? Don't tell me he is…"

"No, no, Halbarad, he is not," Elrohir said quickly, noticing the sudden uneasiness of the other rangers.

Elladan glanced briefly at his brother.

Elrohir nodded softly, and Elladan turned back to Halbarad, who had followed the silent exchange with growing unease.

"Come, Halbarad." Elladan turned his horse around and without hesitation Halbarad followed, leaving Elrohir and the other rangers behind.

Legolas saw the two come their way and after replacing his twin knives in their sheaths, he bowed his head in greeting, seeing Glorfindel do the same. Without a word, Elladan guided Halbarad to Glorfindel's side and then gestured towards the unmoving form of Aragorn in Glorfindel's arms.

But it had not needed the silent gesture, for Halbarad had seen his friend the moment he had passed the warriors. His face had paled considerably, and for a moment he had looked as if he would get ill. When his horse sidled up with Alsfaloth, he nodded a greeting to Glorfindel, but his eyes never left his Chieftain and such a variety of emotions flickered through his eyes that not even the elves could tell them all apart.

"He is alive?" Halbarad asked quietly, almost tentatively.

"Aye, but we need to get him home quickly," Glorfindel answered, never loosening his hold on the man. Aragorn was wrapped in so many blankets and cloaks that only his head was poking out of them, but the paleness of the skin and the sweat covered brow told Halbarad enough about his friend's condition.

Nodding, Halbarad seemed to give himself a mental shake. He straightened his shoulders, set his jaw, and became once more the strong, unshakable ranger. But everyone who knew him could see the worry and fear for his friend swirl in his grey eyes.

"And the one who is responsible for this?"

"He is dead, and for good this time," Legolas said, and he hoped it was true. After all, Dagnir had survived a fall three years ago, and Aragorn had survived the tumble over the cliff as well. What if Dagnir had found a hold on the cliff wall? What if he was still alive?

"Halbarad, would you do us all a favour?" Elladan asked softly, his eyes boring into the ranger's.

"Of course, my Lord."

And then Elladan told Halbarad in a few quick words what had transpired at the cliff, and that they needed to make sure that Dagnir was indeed dead. They could send elves to check on that once they reached the Last Homely House, but it would be quicker and safer if the rangers would see to it now.

Halbarad seemed to ponder this for a moment, and his eyes strayed to his unconscious Chieftain. Then, he nodded. "We will do as you ask us, my Lord."

And without another word, he turned his horse and rode slowly back to his men to instruct them. The elven party bid them farewell and rode on towards Imladris. They had no time to waste; Aragorn, the twins and Legolas needed to see the healers, and they were all eager to reach their home.

Elrohir nodded in thanks and then followed the rescue party, but Elladan waited a few more moments. Then, he turned to Halbarad, who was gazing after the riders with a strange expression on his face; one of worry, fear and anger.

"Halbarad?"

"Aye?"

Elladan swallowed, but then he said softly, so that only Halbarad could hear, "This man took my sword with him when he tumbled down the cliff, and I want it back."

Halbarad nodded, but he said nothing, feeling that there was more.

"And he took something else with him when he fell. Something precious, something of Aragorn's." When Elladan was certain that he had Halbarad's complete attention, he added softly, "He took his ring with him, and it cannot be lost to us. To Aragorn."

Halbarad's eyes widened; he knew what the ring of Barahir meant to Aragorn, and he also knew that his Chieftain would never part from it willingly. What did it mean that this man had taken the ring with him down the cliff? Did that mean he knew who Aragorn was? Was the long kept secret revealed?

His thoughts must have been written on his face, for Elladan said softly, "I know not what transpired between Dagnir and Aragorn before he fell down the cliff, but we need the ring back."

"I will not return ere I have found it, my Lord."

Elladan nodded gratefully, but when Halbarad spurred his horse towards one of the smaller side paths that would lead them down to the valley as well, but more to the East than to the Last Homely House, Elladan held him back.

"Halbarad, one more thing."

"Aye?"

"I send you out to find his body, but if you do not…if he still draws breath, as unlikely as that may seem…"

"I will see to that," Halbarad said grimly, and Elladan had no doubt that he meant it. Then the rangers were gone, leaving Elladan behind on the snowy road. For a moment, he stared after them, before he turned and followed the elven party.

The ride towards the Last Homely House was longer than they all remembered it to be, and when they finally crossed the bridge that had been freed of the snow during the day, and the hooves of their horses echoed across the deserted courtyard, Legolas felt a rush of relief surge through him. Finally, they had reached their destination, had reached safety and shelter.

The lights in the house were still glowing, bathing the snowy courtyard in a soft golden light. The warriors dismounted quietly, one of them already hastening up the steps to the Last Homely House to alert Lord Elrond of their return, in case the border sentinels had not alerted him already

Elladan and Elrohir dismounted as well, and while Elladan helped Glorfindel with Aragorn, Elrohir gave Legolas a helping hand. Legolas would not have admitted it in that moment, but his broken shoulder was causing him more trouble than he would have thought possible. The ride to Imladris had made his shoulder first pound in agony, and now it felt cold and numb. He could barely move his fingers, and he knew that there was a problem with the blood circulation.

_/That does not matter right now, Estel matters./_

And without further ado, he followed the twins and Glorfindel, who were already on their way to the front door, Aragorn securely in Glorfindel's arms. Before their small party reached the huge entrance doors, they were flung open and Elrond stepped out.

His keen eyes swept over them before they rested on Aragorn, and after a quick, silent exchange with Glorfindel, he stepped to the side and let them pass through the doors. They hurried to the healing wing, Elrond staying beside Glorfindel and Aragorn after making sure that the twins were well enough at the moment and that Legolas was relatively well as well.

It did not surprise Legolas to see the healing wing bathed in golden light; numerous candles glowed in alcoves along the walls, silver candelabras had been lit, and a fire burned in the hearth of the main room. The beds were covered in fresh sheets, the side tables held water pitchers and cups and on the tables along the wall, Legolas could see bowls, bandages, tools and many other things that the healers had already prepared. A cauldron with bubbling water had been placed on a hook over the fire, and the main healing chambers were already smelling like a herb garden.

Indeed, Elrond had anticipated their return.

Glorfindel placed Aragorn on one of the examination tables in the middle of the room, while some of the healers guided the twins and Legolas to other tables, wishing to take care of them. But of course, none of them was willing to leave Aragorn's side. They had come so far together, to now give up the responsibility into other, albeit more competent, hands was not easily done.

Glorfindel was just removing one of the many cloaks that had protected Aragorn against the cold of the night, when Elrond turned to the three younger elves. A small smile played around his lips, and without warning he came up to them all and embraced them tightly.

"I am glad that you returned to me safe and sound."

"Ada…," Elladan began, but Elrond hushed him.

"I know that you did all you could for him, my sons," and here he included Legolas in his gaze, who blushed slightly, "but now you have arrived here, and it is time to let others take over. You are tired and injured yourselves; you need healing and rest."

"I will not leave him, please, Lord Elrond," Legolas pleaded before he could stop himself.

Elrond smiled. "Nay, there is no need for you to leave. If you promise me to let the healers take a look at you, you can stay."

The twins and Legolas nodded instantly, and with another sad smile Elrond returned to Aragorn, who was by now freed of the cloaks and blankets. Glorfindel nodded upon Elrond's return, and without another word the two began to strip Aragorn of his torn and bloody clothing.

Gently, a few healers guided the twins and Legolas to other tables to examine them, and only then did Legolas feel how truly tired he was. His shoulder hurt with a vengeance, his head pounded slightly, and he suddenly realized how hungry he was. A yawn escaped him, and the healer who tended him smiled in sympathy.

He pressed a cup of steaming tea in Legolas's good hand, and when he saw the protest form on Legolas's lips, he said softly, "It is against the pain and will not make you sleep."

Giving the healer another doubtful look, Legolas drank the tea, and to his surprise the pain in his shoulder lessened almost instantly, while the warmth of the tea made him wake up a bit. He placed the cup on a side table, a bit more forcefully than he had wanted to, and the sound of the cup connecting with the table echoed around the room.

Flinching, Legolas only then realized how silent it was in the huge room, and he looked around, surprised at the lack of sound.

There were the twins, being examined by healers, his own healer who was making his way over to him with a bowl of warm water; there were Elrond and Glorfindel who tended to Aragorn, some servants. But, it was so quiet.

Legolas could hear the robes of the elves rustling, he heard the water in the cauldron hiss and bubble, he heard the almost inaudible footsteps of the healers and the sound of a scissor cutting through a length of cloth.

But, this was not how it used to be. Normally, when Legolas and Aragorn returned from a misadventure and one of them was injured, the healers would bustle around like bees in a beehive; there would be orders given, words spoken…it would not be loud or chaotic, but…not like this.

This was so…so depressing. Why was Elrond not asking them any questions? Why was he not ordering the healers around to bring him this or that? To prepare the antidote so that it could be given to Aragorn the moment he awoke? Where was the noise, the bustle the tension?

The healer reappeared at Legolas's side. He removed his tunic and shirt, and then began to bath the broken shoulder in the warm water. Hissing at the pain that still nestled in his shoulder, Legolas instinctively twisted to get away from the pain, but the healer had a firm hold on him and held him still.

Glaring briefly at the healer, Legolas glanced back at Glorfindel and Elrond, who were now speaking so softly that Legolas could not understand what they were saying. But with every word that Glorfindel spoke, Elrond's face became grimmer. Absently, Elrond was stroking Aragorn's hair while he listened to his advisor.

And then, Elrond nodded, turned, and began to remove the bandages that wound around Aragorn shoulder, broken ribs and burned hand.

Elrond was not hurrying, he was not shouting orders; he was worried and concerned, but he was not…

_/He does not know what to do…/_ it suddenly raced through Legolas's mind.

/He does not know what kind of poison has been used, and he has no antidote. He can do nothing but tend to Estel's wounds. Therefore there is no need to hurry./

Legolas felt his heart plummet into his stomach and he gasped audibly. The healer stopped in his work and looked at him worriedly, asking, "Prince Legolas? Are you well?"

But Legolas only nodded and then turned his eyes away from his best friend and looked at the floor.

They had reached the safety of the Last Homely House, but still Aragorn would die and the twins probably, too.

Elrond could feel the gaze of the twins and Legolas in his back, but he concentrated on his youngest son, who lay on the examination table in front of him.

_/He is so pale, so cold. And he looks so young./_

Always when Aragorn was injured, Elrond would feel guilty for having him let out of his sight, but every time he reminded himself that Aragorn was grown up, that he had to live his life on his own. But when things like these happened and Aragorn was injured, Elrond could not help the painful twist of his heart that spoke of the fear of loss.

He loved his sons, all of them, and he dreaded the day that he would have to say farewell. Either because he sailed or because they went where he could not follow. He did not know what was worse.

Gently, he removed the bandages around the broken ribs, and when he saw the colourful bruises, he took a deep breath. Most of the bruises were already fading, but with his experience as a healer, he could tell how they had looked only a few days prior. It must have hurt horribly.

With quick and trained movements Elrond felt the ribs, satisfied that they were cleanly broken and not splintered, before he moved on to the shoulder. The arrow had been removed and the wound cauterised expertly. There was no sign of infection and the wound was healing nicely. Perhaps not as quickly as it would under other circumstances, but it was healing.

Next, Elrond examined the burned hand, and for a moment he had to close his eyes to calm his stomach. Even after years of being a healer, such an injury churned his stomach, and to see such a vicious wound on a loved one made his blood turn hot in rage.

He did not even want to think about the circumstances in which Aragorn had received this injury. The pain this branding caused was enough to drive lesser men into madness. With tender care Elrond cleaned the wound and spread some oil over it to help the healing, taking his time to massage the oil into the abused skin; then he wrapped it in the cleanest bandages he could find, hoping that he could prevent the skin from scarring. Which was very unlikely and he knew it well.

That done, Elrond took a moment to watch Aragorn's unconscious face. There were lines that he had not seen before, although it was only two weeks ago that he had seen his son. They were not lines of worry, but of pure physical pain and exhaustion, and Elrond wondered how much Aragorn had suffered before the twins had found him.

Dagnir… Glorfindel had told him briefly what had happened, and he could still not believe that this man had caused all the heartache. Three years ago he had not only kidnapped Aragorn, but nearly killed him, the twins and Legolas, not to mention that he had planned to kill an innocent child as well. That man deserved nothing less than what he had got.

But…perhaps he was simply crazy as Glorfindel had said. Had lost his mind along the way. Maybe…

/NO, Elrond. He tried to kill your sons, he tried to kill them. He poisoned them, for Valars' sake. He had a lot of opportunities to turn around and stop this madness, but he chose to fight until the last moment and, therefore, he deserved death./

Gently, so as if his touch could hurt Aragorn, Elrond caressed the pale cheek with the back of his fingers, and for a moment he simply stood there, watching his son. He looked so young, so fragile, so mortal that it almost hurt Elrond. And the fact that Aragorn seemed to have lost half of his weight during this …episode…underlined that impression.

"Elrond?"

Releasing a long sigh, Elrond removed his hand and nodded towards Glorfindel. There was still work to be done, and although Aragorn was not in any immediate danger, the wounds needed to be tended and the latent fever had to be fought.

Smiling thinly, Elrond with the help of Glorfindel removed Aragorn's trousers. The sight of Aragorn's injured knee made both elves gasp.

The knee was not only red, it was almost black, tinged with purple at the edges. Even the bruises seemed to have bruises. It was swollen, hot to the touch and when Elrond touched it lightly to examine it, Aragorn moaned even in his unconscious state.

"Valar, how could he have endured that all this time, Elrond? And he even tried to take his weight off the cliff wall and onto that leg," Glorfindel more breathed than spoke, and his voice sounded flabbergasted.

"I know not, my friend. But he was always stubborn to the core."

"What are you planning to do?" Glorfindel asked hesitantly. He had seen enough injuries to know that this one was serious and could cause the leg to become stiff and unusable if not treated correctly and with utmost care.

Sighing inwardly, Elrond pondered that question while his skilled fingers probed the injury from all angles and his mind tried to ignore the sounds of distress that came from Aragorn. Glorfindel was holding Aragorn down when he began to move on the table, but his movements were so weak that Glorfindel rather supported than restrained the man.

Elrond felt around the kneecap and what he found was not encouraging. The cap could barely be moved and when Elrond placed his hand under the knee and lifted the leg a bit so that it bend, Aragorn moaned loudly and his eyelids fluttered for a moment, but he did not wake.

As it seemed, blood had collected behind the kneecap and had then clotted, leaving the area behind the knee and the kneecap first drowning in blood which then hardened to make the kneecap trapped in the clotted blood.

That in itself would not have been that bad, but the still fluid blood could have damaged the flesh and sinews, while the clotted blood was a threat to muscle and bone.

And if they were very unlucky, the clotted blood would have caused an infection inside the knee. If that had happened, then Aragorn would most likely lose the use of his leg. He would be forced to use a crutch for the rest of his life and suffer great pain.

Elrond hoped that the latter was not the case, and he knew that there was only one way to be sure of that.

"I fear I will have to open the knee to see the damage. I will have to go from there," he said gravely.

"I see." Glorfindel said, and in that moment there was so much understanding in his eyes, that even Legolas, who sat some length away from the two of them and could not hear what they were talking about, could see that something was amiss. Greatly amiss.

And it seemed the twins had seen it, too. Without a word, the two brothers wriggled away from their healers and approached the table on which Aragorn lay, both wearing an expression of deep worry and concern.

"Ada?"

Elrond sighed deeply. "I do not have to tell you how bad it is, my sons. You are healers yourself, after being warriors, of course, but you tended to Estel the last days, and know how it is."

The twins nodded, and for a fleeting moment Legolas had the horrible feeling of being an outsider again, of being someone who did not belong. Of someone who was trespassing into a family that was not his, a life that was not his.

The healer who tended to him gazed at him strangely, before he said softly, "This will hurt, Prince Legolas."

But Legolas did not care, not really, there were matters much more important than a broken shoulder. What had the twins meant? And what was Lord Elrond talking about?

With a crunching noise the healer shifted the broken bones in his shoulder, and as Legolas was absolutely unprepared for the pain as he had not paid any attention to the healer, the pain caught him unawares and he yelped.

All eyes suddenly flew to him, and for a moment it was silent in the huge room before Elrond turned back to Aragorn, and the twins moved back to their own healers, who had waited patiently for their patients. And Legolas sat there, having a healer who he not knew tend to his shoulder that suddenly ached with a vengeance, and a bunch of unanswered questions in his mind.

One of them was, whether he only belonged to this family because of Aragorn, and what would happen if his friend never woke again. That was of course nonsense, for Aragorn would wake again, but…there was still the poison. And they had no cure.

In the stillness of the room, Legolas felt suddenly very alone and very abandoned. With wide eyes he watched how Elrond spread a blanket across Aragorn, how Glorfindel wiped a wet cloth across Aragorn's brow and how the servants stoked the fire over which the cauldron still hissed and bubbled.

The healer wrapped his shoulder in soft bandages before he placed his arm into a sling, telling him not to move the arm. But Legolas did not really hear him. What was his own injury compared with Aragorn's?

So focused was he on his unconscious friend that he did not realize the healer leaving his side and the twins sitting down next to him on the examination table. Only when Elrohir suddenly poked him gently in the side, did he snap out of his stupor and gaze at him.

The younger twin smiled sadly and then he sighed deeply.

"Ada is going to tend to Estel's knee in a few minutes. He needs to prepare a few things before he can begin."

Elladan, who sat on Legolas's other side, added softly, "I do not think Ada really wants to do this, but he has to."

Legolas swallowed, and when he followed the twins' looks, he knew that he was not alone with his worries and fears. The twins felt probably as helpless and useless as he did right now, and that they had come to him to try and explain to him what was going to happen made him feel better.

"Will your father give him something for the pain?" Legolas asked. "Something to keep him asleep?"

"I think so, yes," Elrohir answered, and then he added so soft that Legolas had to strain his ears to hear him, "It would be better for Estel. The pain will be unbearable were he awake."

A tense silence settled over them, and then Elladan asked, "How is your shoulder, Legolas?"

"Broken."

And after that none of them broke the ensuing silence, as they all waited for Elrond to begin the surgery on their brother and friend.

Sometimes Elrond hated to be a healer and regretted the day that he had hung his sword on the wall and turned from his days as a warrior. Of course, he still trained his swordsmanship and archery, but he had turned from the path of killing to concentrate on healing a long time ago. But on days such as these, he really hated it.

As a warrior, he had never truly cared how deep an injury was, or how near to a vital organ. His main concern had been if his soldier or friend would make it. That had been his concern then, and the only thing he had asked the healers then had been exactly that. If his friend would make it, if he would live. That had been the only knowledge that had been important to him.

But now, being a healer himself and knowing how much work it sometimes took to heal someone, he did not want to have that knowledge. Oh no. Now, having studied the healing arts for centuries, he had enough knowledge to know when an injury was fatal, when he would have to give the friends and family the devastating news.

But, not even that was what was disturbing him right now. No, it was rather that, with his knowledge as a healer, he could now tell that his own son's injury was bad. Truly bad, and he wished he were no healer. That he could sit down with his sons and Legolas, waiting for the news, instead of knowing already that it would probably be devastating news. To know it beforehand and to know what could go wrong in the next few hours of surgery, made even his stomach churn violently.

Valar, he was a healer long enough to handle these kind of situations. And his sons were old enough to give him grey hairs, had that been possible. This was not the worst of injuries that one of his sons had suffered. But, whenever Aragorn was injured, Elrond felt a bit more anxious than when the twins were injured. Probably because Aragorn was human and did not possess the strong elvish healing abilities.

Aye, his Numenorean blood saw him through many wounds that would kill lesser man, but he was still only mortal. And this mortality, and the fragility that came with it, could now mean that his young son, who was so full of life and embraced it with both arms, became a cripple. And perhaps, even by his own father's hands.

Elrond knew that this knee injury was worse than Aragorn's other wounds, even the shot shoulder. One slip with his knife, one overlooked blood clot, and Aragorn would never be able to walk unaided. What if he houghed him by accident?

This thought was too horrible to continue, and so Elrond took a deep breath, turned away from the tables along the wall and gazed back at his still unconscious son. Normally, Elrond tended to bring his patients into a healing sleep that would keep them out of it for at least two days when he did surgery on the knee; Glorfindel had poured a very strong sleeping draught down Aragorn's throat, one that would make him sleep through the worst of the pain, but Elrond was afraid to give his son too much of the draught, out of fear that in his already weakened state he would not wake again. Or too late, so that the poison could kill him while he slept. No, Elrond wanted to talk to his son before the poison attacked again.

Suppressing the shaking in his hands as he approached the table, Elrond shot a quick glance at the twins and Legolas. He knew there was no point in asking them to leave the room, and he had no intention of doing so. They had come so far together; they should go the rest of the way together as well.

He stopped next to the table and saw that Glorfindel and the other healers had already prepared Aragorn for the surgery while he had taken care of the herbs he would need. Aragorn had been turned and was now lying on his stomach, a blanket lying across his back, a cold cloth was placed on his neck to help with the fever, and another, very light blanket was draped over his son's legs, leaving the knee free so that he would be able to work.

Two of his head healers stood nearby, for they knew that Elrond would need their help during this risky surgery. One of them would hold the leg as immobile as possible, while the other would hand Elrond the needed instruments.

And when Elrond looked into Glorfindel's eyes, he knew that his friend would not leave either, that he would give him his silent support and a hand if needed to hold Aragorn down. Elrond saw that everything he would need was there. There was no reason to delay any longer.

Taking a deep breath, he stroked Aragorn's hair out of his face, and then began the probably life altering surgery.

Tbc…

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So, a slow going chapter. Let me know what you think! 


	33. 32 The Calm Before The Storm

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N: Hi, thank you all very much for your wonderful reviews, you are all sooooo great. As to replies, I am sorry, but not this week, as I am a tiny bit frustrated with this site at the moment. Can you believe that I tried to upload this since thursday? Well, I hope you like this chapter. It is a calmer one, before the angst/suspension begins anew. ;-)**

_Elvish translations:_

Fasse: Shaggy-hair

Ion nin: My son

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_**Pippin**: It's so quiet.  
**Gandalf**: It's the deep breath before the plunge.  
**Pippin**: I don't want to be in a battle. But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse._

_(J.R.R. Tolkien LOTR The Return of the King)

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_

Chapter 32: The calm before the storm

For the elves who lived in the Last Homely House, it had been one of the longest nights that they had ever lived through. The surgery on Aragorn's knee took many hours to complete, and by the time Elrond wrapped the last bandages around it, the candles in the room had burned low, the wax dripping onto the ground and creating twisted forms.

During all this time, the attending elves had barely spoken, and the silence that had settled over them all was so contagious that even now, a few hours after the surgery, a serene quietness lingered over the fair halls.

Elrond sighed inwardly and loosened the catch in his neck that had kept his hair back during the surgery. He felt tired and drained but also relived that it was over now. With the help of his most trusted healers he had managed to clean the clotted blood from behind the knee cap, and from what he had been able to see of the injury, the chances were good that Aragorn would make a full recovery. Given, it would be painful and take a very long time until the knee healed, but at least he _would_ heal.

_/If the poison does not kill him, that is./_

Ai, the poison. The thought that this evil menace still coursed freely through his sons' bodies frightened Elrond. He could not only lose Aragorn, but Elladan and Elrohir as well. Nearly his whole family…

Shaking his head wearily, Elrond took a deep calming breath and made his way over to the small table that stood near one of the bookshelves in his study. After making sure that Aragorn was still asleep and the twins and Legolas well cared for and resting as well, he had retreated into his study; he simply needed a few moments to himself.

From one of the glass carafes he poured himself a glass of wine, one of the finest in the whole of Imladris. Letting the red wine swirl in his glass, Elrond gazed into the liquid for a moment before he took a sip. It was sweet and strong, and the familiar taste soothed his nerves almost immediately.

With the glass in hand Elrond made his way over to his balcony, opened the door and stepped out into the night. A chilly breeze ruffled his hair and played with his robes, but Elrond ignored the grip of winter and leaned against the stone balustrade, letting his gaze wander over the valley.

Snow covered the rooftops of the buildings; it lay on the paths and dotted the trees. White smoke rose from some of the houses, and when Elrond turned his head to the right, he could see the torches and glass candles that lined the river. Their light made the river sparkle, and where it was not covered in ice, the dark water seemed to swirl and dance in the light.

Although it was deep at night, the valley was not completely dark. But it were not the artificial lights that the elves had lit that uncovered the blackness of it, but the light of the silver stars that reflected on the pristine snow cover. Like diamonds the stars stood in the sky, twinkling and shining, guided by the light of the full moon. The undisturbed snow that covered the ground seemed to soak up the light and then reflect it, to bathe the whole valley in a silver glow.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp air and feeling it rush into his lungs, Elrond gazed up at the stars. So far away, and yet so close tonight. Finding Eärendil, Elrond smiled slightly. Tonight, he needed a bit of comfort. The morrow would perhaps bring some answers to the questions that burned on his mind, but Elrond felt that things would not turn for the better once this night was over.

--oOo--

With a groan, Legolas rolled onto his side and blinked slowly. When had he fallen asleep? And when had he lain down in a bed anyway? Frowning, he gazed around the room he was in. From what he could see, it was the guest room he usually stayed in when in Imladris, the room right next to the twins' and Aragorn's own room. But, how had he gotten here?

Sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Legolas thought back on the night before. The last thing he could remember clearly were Lord Glorfindel and Lord Elrond carrying Aragorn up the stairs to his own room, then the argument he and the twins had with Lord Elrond about staying with Aragorn, and then…the soup Elrond had brought them.

The soup…

_/Does he now put sleeping herbs in the soup, too/_

Stunned upon that revelation, Legolas shook his head. He should have known that Elrond would force them to rest, one way or another, and as they had long ago vowed to never, ever drink one of Elrond's teas in these kinds of situations, it seemed the Lord of Imladris had turned to other measures.

_/Inventive, mean, but inventive./_

With a wide yawn, Legolas got out of bed and padded over to the chest of drawers that held a washbasin, soap and a jug of water. Squinting against the sun that peeked through the light curtains that hung before the window, Legolas poured some of the water into the basin, took a washcloth and began to clean himself. He had had neither the energy nor the will to do so properly when they had arrived, but now his body simply screamed at him to be clean again.

After washing his hair and brushing the knots out of the blond strands, Legolas braided it and then donned the fresh clothing that some servant had set out for him. Because of his frequent stays in Imladris, he had his own stock of clothing here; it was simply easier for everybody if he was not forced to travel with many packs every time he came to visit his friends.

Clean and dressed, Legolas turned and opened the curtains, letting the sun warm his face. The sky was of a brilliant blue, and the white snow glittered in the sunlight. The song of some winter birds hung in the air, and for a moment Legolas was tempted to step out onto the balcony and enjoy the fine day.

Sorrow pierced his heart and Legolas bowed his head. What was he still doing in his own room? Taking nearly an hour to wash and dress? Why was he standing idly before his window, letting his mind muse over insignificant things like the weather?

A soft sigh left Legolas's lips, and he turned away from the window and towards the door. Was he truly so afraid to see Aragorn? To have to talk to Lord Elrond? Deep in his heart he knew that when he stepped out of his room, he would have to face this new day and the inevitable news that they had no antidote, no way to save the twins and Aragorn. There was nothing they could do.

Lord Elrond had spoken to the twins after tending to Aragorn. They knew. Legolas had seen that it nearly broke Lord Elrond's heart to tell his sons that there was nothing he could do to help them, but the twins had accepted the news bravely, nothing giving away their emotions.

Surely they must be scared, utterly frightened and hopeless. And yet, they knew the horrible truth already. But Aragorn…Who would tell him when he awoke? Or was he probably already awake and had been told; it was late morning. And if he was not, and Legolas was the first to see him upon waking, would it be in Legolas's right to tell him? Could he look his friend in the eye and tell him that it was all in vain, that he would die nonetheless? And that his brothers would die with him?

Surely, Aragorn would try to reassure them that all was well and that they should not worry, that some miracle would happen. That they would be saved. Mithrandir was still out there, was he not?

Legolas smiled slightly. Aye, Aragorn would not give up so easily. He would smile at him, take his hand and tell him he should not worry. After all, he was always so optimistic. Lord Elrond had not named him Estel out of a whim, .

And with these thoughts, which lightened Legolas's heart, the elf exited his room and made his way over to Aragorn's. For a moment he listened, but when he heard nothing, he silently opened the door and peered inside.

The room was almost dark; the candles had burned low and the curtains were still closed. The fire that had burned brightly the night before to warm the room had burned low, and the glowing embers bathed the room in a red twilight.

Legolas entered and closed the door behind him before he tiptoed towards the huge bed that stood to the right side of the room, parallel to the large windows and the balcony doors. The room was warm and cosy, and Legolas could smell the herbs that the twins had placed into the fire. They barely suppressed the scent of the healing herbs, but Legolas knew the herbs would have helped to soothe Aragorn. Legolas smelled thyme and sandalwood, two of his friend's favourites.

Slowly, Legolas approached the bed, and he could see the form of his sleeping friend under the covers, his right leg elevated on pillows to help the circulation of the blood. The fur of a bear was draped over the man, and the huge bed seemed to have swallowed Aragorn in its depth. Only the dark head was visible on the pillow, and Legolas could not help the spear like pain that shot through his heart. This was so unfair.

Why did it always have to be Aragorn who suffered so?

Knowing that there was no answer to that question, Legolas sank down on the edge of the bed and gently moved some dark strands out of Aragorn's face. His friend hated it when his hair hung into his eyes, and from an early age he had taken to move his hands through his dark locks to keep the hair at bay.

Legolas smiled gently as he remembered the name the twins had given their brother one sunny afternoon to tease him. "Fasse" they had called him and it had irked the young man to no end. So much so that he had challenged his brothers to a braiding contest. Of course, the unlucky elf who had to play the model for Aragorn had been Legolas.

Legolas's smile widened as he remembered his new hairstyle. A bit extravagant perhaps, but neat and skilled at the same time. Maybe Aragorn took no great care in his hair, but he knew how to do it if needed. That had been one of the many occasions when Legolas had found out that there was more to the man than met the eye.

Aragorn breathed in deep and turned his head in his sleep, and Legolas felt his smile slip away. His friend was pale, even after Lord Elrond's ministrations. His cheeks were a bit flushed, but when Legolas pressed his hand against the man's forehead, he felt no fever; it must have broken during the night.

The bruises, Aragorn had sustained in the rockslide, had almost faded, but they were still there, and before Legolas could stop himself, his finger gently brushed against them. When Aragorn shifted and his lips moved without speaking, Legolas removed his hand and instead tucked the covers a bit tighter around his friend.

For long minutes he sat on the bed, gazing at his sleeping friend, letting his thoughts wander to places in the past. Legolas was so focused on Aragorn and his own thoughts that he did not hear the rustling of robes in a dark corner of the room. When a soft voice suddenly spoke, he was so startled that he nearly slipped off the bed.

"I should have known that you would not leave his side for long."

"Glorfindel! I am sorry, I did not see you."

Leaning forwards in his chair, Glorfindel smiled slightly. "That, dear Prince, I noticed."

An embarrassed flush crept up Legolas's cheeks, and he asked quickly, "Have you been here all night?"

"Aye. Someone had to keep an eye on him, and Elrond needed to rest after the night's work."

Nodding, Legolas chastised himself for not thinking of that sooner. Of course they would not have let Aragorn sleep on his own, not with all his injuries, the fever and after a surgery that had cost him a lot of blood.

Turning his gaze back to Aragorn, Legolas asked softly, "How is he? The fever has broken?"

"Yes, he woke briefly during the night and was able to drink some tea. The fever broke shortly after that, and he has slept ever since."

"He woke up?" Legolas's voice was louder than he had intended it to be, and he quickly glanced at his friend to make sure he had not woken him.

"Aye, but only very briefly. And he was not truly alert," Glorfindel answered, and then he smiled sadly at Legolas. "And no, he does not yet know."

Legolas's eyes widened as the meaning of what Glorfindel had said sunk in. How was it Glorfindel was able to read his thoughts so well? But Legolas did not have to ask that question, for Glorfindel answered it himself.

"I dread the moment he learns that news."

"Aye." And then they both fell silent for a few moments, each of them letting their thoughts run free.

A gentle knock on the door roused them out of their contemplative state. Glorfindel got up and softly opened the door. He spoke with the servant for a few seconds, before he nodded and turned towards Legolas.

"Come, Legolas. The twins have woken as well, and Elrond wants us all to eat with him."

When Legolas opened his mouth to protest, Glorfindel shushed him, "Erestor will sit with him while we are gone."

And indeed, while Glorfindel said this, the dark haired advisor slipped into the room. Knowing that he could not refuse, but loath to leave his friend's side, Legolas got up and slowly moved to the door. Before he left, he threw one last look over his shoulder at Aragorn, taking in his sleeping form.

The next time he saw him, he would probably be awake and learn that he would die in the near future, as would his brothers.

--oOo--

They had settled in the dining room that was usually only used by Elrond when neither of his sons was in residence. The room was simply decorated with only a few vases and only one picture on the wall. In contrast to the Great Hall, where they used to dine when Legolas was in Imladris, this room lacked the happy and lighthearted atmosphere the Great Hall had. But perhaps that was only due to the sombre mood of its occupants.

The cooks had made various dishes, ranging from vegetable soup, fresh bread with herbs in it, butter stuffed mushrooms, fried vegetables with a milk-mustard dip, to nuts, berries and eatable winter roots. And not only that, but in the kitchens stood two freshly baked cakes, one filled with apples, raisins and cinnamon, the other with nuts. They were the twins favourite, and the cooks knew it well.

The sad thing was that most of the food would wander onto the compost; none of the elves seated around the table was very hungry. They picked at their food, their faces downcast, features sad or grim.

Watching his sons play with their food for some minutes, seeing how Legolas drowned his vegetables in his dip, and how Glorfindel fought valiantly with his own food, Elrond placed down his own fork. He truly had tried to be a good example and eat what he had placed on his plate, but he was not hungry, either.

Sighing, he looked at his sons and Legolas. "Boys, eat. Your bodies need it after your experiences in the Wild."

"You are not eating either, ada," Elladan commented dryly.

"Well, but I tell you to eat. And as I am your father, you do as I say," Elrond said gently, but his words brooked no argument.

Seeing that the twins obeyed and began to eat, albeit haltingly, Elrond turned to Legolas, "That includes you as well, young Prince."

"I am not hungry, my Lord," Legolas said, his voice dejected.

"I know, Legolas, but you need to eat. That shoulder of yours needs the nourishment to heal."

Sighing deeply, Legolas nodded, and then fished some of the drowned vegetables out of the dip with his fork and began to eat. Giving Glorfindel a pointed look that he should follow the younger elves' example, Elrond took up his fork and continued eating. Silence settled once more, and only the clatter of the cutlery could be heard.

When they had cleared their plates, none of them moved from the table as they used to do, but words did not come easy, and when the cooks brought the cakes and tea into the dining room instead of the parlour, they ate it in silence.

But when they had eaten the cakes also, there was no more excuse for them. Clearing his throat and putting down his napkin, Elrond let his eyes travel over the younger elves. They all looked how he felt, and for a fleeting moment he wondered whether his own grief was showing on his ageless face as well.

"I think we have tarried long enough. Now, tell me what exactly has happened while you were out there. Glorfindel told me what you told him when you met, but I would like to hear it from you personally."

Another round of sighs went around the table. None of the elves wanted to retell the story one more time, but finally Elladan began to tell what had happened to them since they had left their home, Legolas told of his encounter with the mountain goblins, the traps and Elrohir finished the tale with the rescue of Aragorn and the journey home.

Steepling his fingers, Elrond nodded slowly. "So he is truly dead."

"We do not know yet, ada," Elrohir said, "but Halbarad will be able to tell us once he returns."

"It was good to send him after the man and…your brother's ring. I want to be sure this time that this man has truly found his way to Mandos's Halls," Elrond said.

They all nodded, but it was Legolas who spoke up next.

"Lord Elrond, please, I need to know the truth. Is there really nothing we can do?"

A deep sigh left Elrond's lips, and for a moment he seemed to sink in his chair, as if an invisible weight pressed down on his shoulders. When he met Legolas's eyes, his own showed a deep sadness and a frustrating helplessness.

"I fear there is nothing I can do to counteract the poison. The Lady Galadriel cannot help us either, and I have had no word from Mithrandir, although I doubt he will find anything useful."

Elrond's eyes flickered to the twins, but both had bowed their heads and would not look up. They had talked to their father the previous night, and all that had been needed to say on that matter had been said in private between them.

"But, when the poison strikes next, what then? We cannot simply let Dan, Ro and Estel die." Legolas sounded desperate and a note of fear crept into his voice.

"We will take care of the symptoms, Legolas, and see what we can do from there."

"That is not enough!" Anger entered Legolas's voice.

"I know," Elrond said sadly and averted his gaze, and in that moment, Legolas felt as if someone had knocked his feet out from under him. If even the best healer in all of Middle-earth surrendered to the poison, then how could his friends survive it?

"Perhaps Mithrandir can help," Legolas said softly, and a part of him truly hoped that the Istar would be able to help them.

"Aye," Elrond said, "perhaps he can."

--oOo--

When Aragorn awoke, it was not the slow waking that he had suspected after drinking his father's special tea, but a quick awakening. From one moment to the next his senses were fully awake, and after the second in which he did not know where he was, he found himself alert and complete awake.

Blinking, Aragorn heard the soft rustling of robes, the scratching of a chair on the stone floor, and then footsteps coming towards him. Turning his head, Aragorn squinted at the figure, but his room was so gloomy that he could not tell who it was. And then, the elf stepped into the light of the candle that stood on the bedside table, and Aragorn gazed into the smiling face of his father's advisor.

"It is good to see you awake, Estel," Erestor said softly, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

"And it is good to see you," Aragorn said, but when he tried to move into a sitting position, Erestor pushed him back into the soft mattress.

"No, Estel, lie down and rest. I am sure your father would not want you to rise just yet. Or, at least not until he has seen to your injuries."

Aragorn let himself be pressed down, but he could not help to glare a bit at Erestor. In contrast to the last time he was awake, he felt rather good. Granted, he felt slightly weak, his ribs hurt and his knee seemed to have been clobbered by a dwarf, but other than that…

"Oh no, Estel, that look won't work on me." Erestor laughed, before he got to his feet and walked slowly to the door.

"I will inform your family that you are awake. Rest, Estel." And with that, Erestor opened the door and left the room.

Sinking fully down into the mattress and letting his head fall onto the down pillow, Aragorn closed his eyes. The room was warm, and he smiled faintly when he smelled thyme and sandalwood. He was home, he was finally home. Found, rescued, safe.

And then, just as Aragorn felt a wave of relief wash over him, his stomach turned into a tight knot and his heart sped up its pace. No, he was not safe, not yet. There was still the poison in his body that would sooner or later kill him.

Kill him…it was a strange feeling. To be home at last, where he had wished to be since this nightmare had started, but to not have ended the adventure, the peril and the fear. His home had always been his haven of peace and security, where all his pains could be cured by a smile, a kiss and a hug. When he had grown up, he had learned that it was not so easy, but still, this was his home and he used to be safe here. And now…

_/Perhaps, ada has found an antidote. Perhaps, I have already been given it while I was out./_

The knot in his stomach loosened a bit, and Aragorn released a deep breath. At least he was no longer in danger of being killed by Dagnir. The man was dead. The irony of Dagnir's death was not lost on Aragorn, and he even felt a bitter pang of regret that the man had to find such a gruesome end, but it had been Dagnir's decision to walk that path and, therefore, he had brought his own fate on him.

Just when Aragorn felt himself drift off to slumber, he heard the door to his room open and his family enter. Turning his head and opening his eyes, he smiled at them. When his eyes found his father, his smile widened. "Ada…"

"Estel, it is good to see you awake, ion nin."

"So I have been told," Aragorn said, nodding at his brothers and Legolas in greeting, while at the same time frowning at the sling in which Legolas's arm rested. But before he could ask his friend how he was feeling, Elrond sat down on the edge of the bed and redirected Aragorn's gaze towards him.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel better than before," Aragorn answered, while Elrond placed the back of his hand against Aragorn's forehead to check for fever. Satisfied that the fever had broken and Aragorn was only slightly warmer than was normal, Elrond sat back and gazed deeply into his son's eyes.

"What about your shoulder? And your ribs? How does your leg feel?"

Aragorn shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. Give me some moments to sort it out and then I tell you."

Although it was true that Aragorn felt better than he had in a long time, he could not tell yet where the various pains in his body came from, or whether he hurt at all. His muscles were still stiff from sleep, and he would need a few minutes to sort out the signals his body sent him.

"Good." Elrond nodded, and then he moved to the other side of the bed and lifted the covers off of Aragorn's right leg to see how the knee was doing. Meanwhile, Elladan stoked the fire, Elrohir opened the curtains to let the morning light enter, and Legolas poured Aragorn a glass of water which he accepted thirstily.

"Thank you, Legolas."

The elf nodded and smiled thinly, but would not look Aragorn in the eyes. Instead, Legolas moved to the head of the bed and started to rearrange the pillows behind him. Thinking that Legolas was trying to divert his attention from his obviously broken shoulder, Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp pain in his knee made him hiss.

"There is no blood on the bandages, Estel. That is a good sign," Elrond said, placing the blankets over Aragorn's leg once more.

Taking a deep breath to fight the pain, Aragorn admonished, "A warning would be nice next time, ada."

"Did I not warn you?"

"No," Aragorn said, shaking his head.

"Well then, I will try to remember to do so next time," Elrond said, his voice sounding as if he was far away with his thoughts.

It was then that Aragorn noticed one thing, and it disturbed him greatly. _This_, was not right. Glancing around the room, he saw his brothers standing beside the hearth, gazing into the flames, Legolas was still torturing the pillows and his father was smoothing the non-existing crinkles out of the covers.

What was going on here? Normally, when he was waking up after being wounded so badly, his brothers would fight with each other over who was allowed to hug and mother him first. And Legolas, why would he not meet his eyes? Was it truly only because of his shoulder?

Once more glancing around the room, Aragorn decided to try something. Easing himself down into his pillows, he said casually, "While I waited for you, there was a dwarf in this room, telling me that all elves were prissy pointy-ears and should be dressed in lilac dresses."

One second, two, three…nothing. Then, suddenly, Elladan lifted his head and gazed at him with a confused expression on his face, "Dresses?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Aragorn simply looked at him, but said nothing. Inwardly Aragorn was musing about the fact that his brother had registered the dresses, but not the dwarf. No, something was really not as it should be.

When Elladan frowned at him but then turned back to the fire, Aragorn had finally had enough.

"All right, everybody. What is going on here? Ada?"

To his surprise, his father took a deep breath and released it slowly. His voice was soft when he answered, "There is something I need to tell you, ion nin. Something you need to know."

--oOo--

His family had left him to rest in his room, but Aragorn could not rest. How could he, after being told that there was nothing that could be done for him? That there was no antidote and that the poison would kill him? Slowly and painfully?

While he lay in his bed, watching the fine winter day outside, Aragorn could not stop the thoughts that raced through his mind. After a while, his thoughts settled around one and the same fact, and that would not let him go.

Again and again that one thought brought itself to his attention.

_/They will die because of me. Because he tried to kill me, Dan and Ro will die as well./_

Aragorn gazed unseeing out into the valley of Imladris while this thought haunted him. His fault, it was his fault. Oh, how could fate be so cruel? Had the Valar no mercy on him, or even his brothers? Had his father not already lost enough members of his family? Must he now loose his sons as well? And all because of him? A mere mortal that had stumbled upon his family when his own had died? It was not fair!

_/My brothers are dying only because they love me…/_

Closing his eyes in heartache, Aragorn balled his hands into fists. This could not be happening.

Aragorn was so focused on his own thoughts and feelings that he did not hear the door to his room open and soft footsteps draw close to his bed. Only when the mattress dipped softly, and someone placed his hand on his back, became he aware of the presence of another in his room.

Without opening his eyes, he said pained, "Go, leave me be."

But the hand did not vanish from his back, and then a soft sigh floated to his ears. Slowly, the hand began to rub soothing circles on his back, and then Aragorn knew who it was that had come to him.

"Ro, please, leave me."

"No, little brother," Elrohir said gently, scooting a bit closer to the man.

"Ro, please…" Aragorn's voice was a mere whisper. How could he look his brother in the eye? Of course they had not wanted to look at him when they had come to visit before. He would kill them! Indirectly, yes, but he was responsible for their deaths!

With his other hand, Elrohir tucked some strands of dark hair behind Aragorn's ear, caressing his cheek slightly with his fingers. "Estel, look at me."

"Ro…"

"Please, Estel, look at me," Elrohir repeated, not once stopping his soothing motions.

Swallowing dryly, Aragorn opened his eyes and gazed into his brother's face. Elrohir smiled sadly at him, and when the elf was certain that he had his brother's attention, he said softly,

"Estel, this is not your fault. You are not responsible for this."

"But…"

"Shhh, no but. There is no but this time. And I will hear no more word of this."

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn tried to sit up, but his brother pressed him down. "Ro, had it not been for me, you and Dan would not be poisoned. Nothing of this would have happened."

Sighing and accepting that his brother would not simply heed his words, Elrohir thought a moment and then answered, "Dagnir wanted to kill you, Estel. We were poisoned alongside you, yes, but that is not your fault."

"You only ate the stew because you joined me on my way to the Misty Mountains."

"Yes, but Legolas cooked the stew. Do you think it is, therefore, his fault? That without his stew Dagnir had had no way to poison us?" Elrohir asked softly.

Moving a hand through his hair, Aragorn sighed frustrated, "No, of course not. But..:"

"No but, Estel. It was not your fault, and the one who is responsible for this is dead."

Shaking his head in dismay, Aragorn gazed out of the window. His voice was sad and lost when he spoke next, "This is not right. It is not fair."

"Life is never fair, Estel. If I have learned one thing in all my years on Arda, it is this."

And with that, Elrohir drew his brother into a hug, holding him tightly, wishing that the things would be as easy as they once used to be, when Aragorn's hurts could have been cured with a smile, a kiss and a hug.

Tbc…

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So, what do you think? You know, what I would like to know is, where do you wonderful people all come from? That would be very intresting to see...:)


	34. 33 Nobody Said It Was Easy

**Hello! I know, I know. And I apologize. I broke with my weekly post. I am so sorry. But at the moment life is so, ach, so...I cannot even explain how it is; it suffices to say that I had not the best of days these last two weeks. I am trying my hardest to write faster and post weekly again, but I know not if I will manage. I will try. I promise. For now, enjoy the new chapter and tell me what you think. :o)**

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N:** I know Halbarad is probably too young in this story to have his own group or rangers under his command, but please bear with me and for the sake of the story, he has.

_Elvish translations:_

Le suilon: I greet thee (I know "Suilad" or "Mae govannen" are more common, but I always liked this one)

Halbarad eneth nîn: My name is Halbarad

Im tawarior in forod: I am a ranger of the North

Ion nin: My son

* * *

"_Nobody said it was easy,_

_nobody said it would be this hard."_

_(Coldplay – The Scientist)

* * *

_

Chapter 33: Nobody said it was easy

Halbarad made his way slowly up the paths that wound through the valley. Snow covered the green fields and meadows; the trees swayed gently in the winter breeze, now and then letting the snow rain from their leafless branches. The brooks and rivers were either frozen over or glittering in the bright morning light.

To his right, a family of rabbits tolled in the snow, the younger animals running hither and thither under the watchful eyes of the older guardians. Halbarad's horse snorted softly, its breath frosting in front of its face.

But the wintry scenery was not what was troubling Halbarad. And neither was it the corpse that they had found at the base of the cliff the day before, bloody and broken. No, he had expected to find the body of the man, and in his opinion the body had looked even better than he had thought it would. No, what was bothering him while he and his men rode up to the Last Homely House was the stillness that lay over the valley.

The voices of nature seemed muted, the forest silent, the meadows eerily quiet. Even the playing rabbits had sounded muted. There were only few elves out in the gardens or on the walkways, which made Halbarad uneasy.

He had been in Imladris before, even in winter, and never before had the valley been so still and quiet. The elves they met nodded in greeting but turned away quickly, and once or twice Halbarad meant to see sadness and pity flicker in the ancient eyes, but with elves, one could never know.

As they rode slowly due to the snow, it took the rangers the better part of the morning to cross the valley, and in the first hour after noon they finally reached the part of the valley the Last Homely House was located in.

His horse crossed a stone bridge, and then Halbarad could see the roof of the Last Homely House peek out from behind some mammoth trees that were heavily laden with snow. When he passed under the tree, a squirrel darted out from the trunk and jumped across the branch. Its bushy tail helped it to navigate and hold its balance, and when the animal looked at him out of dark eyes, Halbarad sighed deeply, not knowing where his feeling of dread came from.

He gripped the reins of his horse tighter as they rode across the long bridge that would bring them directly to the cobblestone courtyard of Lord Elrond's home, and when the clipitty-clop of his horse echoed around the empty courtyard, another shiver of unease crawled down Halbarad's back. No, something was no right here, although he could not put his finger on it.

The rangers dismounted behind him, and he followed their example. Looking around while stretching his stiff legs and arms, Halbarad was surprised to see that there was no one there to greet him. Well, there was not even a stable groom to take the horses from them.

Turning to his men, Halbarad asked one of them to take the horses to the stable, and then the rest of them moved up the steps to the huge oaken front door and knocked. At first, they heard nothing, but as there was light behind the windows on most levels of the house, there had to be someone at home. At least a servant should hear them and open the door.

They waited, but nothing stirred inside the house. His frown deepening, Halbarad knocked again, louder this time, and after a few long moments one of the double doors opened. An elf stood before them, clad in the livery of the servants of the Lord of Imladris, and Halbarad bowed his head.

"Le suilon, Master Elf. Halbarad eneth nîn. Im tawarior in forod. I would like to speak with Lord Elrond in an urgent matter."

The servant let his eyes travel over the other rangers as he stepped away from the door and indicated behind him, "Aye, Master Halbarad, I have been told of your imminent arrival. Please enter."

Nodding, Halbarad and his rangers followed the servant through the entrance hall and then into the Hall of Fire, where the hearths were emitting a pleasant warmth. Numerous tables with benches, couches and armchairs stood in the hall, but besides the rangers and the servant, the great hall was empty.

"I will see if Lord Elrond will receive you." The servant told them and left the hall before Halbarad could even thank him.

Frowning, Halbarad shook his head minutely. Strange, that Lord Elrond would not greet them, for he surely knew what they had set out to recover.

While the rangers waited, they grouped around the fires, warming their hands and cold limbs. Once or twice another servant passed by the door, but even inside this great house it was silent. There was neither merry laughter nor agitated chatter, and with every minute that passed, Halbarad felt his unease rise.

Surely, nothing had happened while they had searched for the body of the man? Immediately his thoughts returned to his wounded friend. Aragorn had not looked good when he had seen him, but they had not been far from the Last Homely House. And neither Elladan nor Elrohir had indicated that he was injured life threateningly…

Halbarad's unease was replaced with fear, and he felt his stomach churn painfully. Now that he thought about it, maybe the glances he had seen thrown at them during their ride had truly been looks of deep sadness and pity. And the silence that lay over the valley was one of…mourning.

Aragorn was not only loved by the Dunedain, but he was a friend of most elves in Imladris. He had known them almost all his life and especially the elves that lived and worked in the Last Homely House were very fond of him.

The soft murmurs of the other rangers suddenly stopped, and when Halbarad turned towards the door, he saw that an elf had entered. He was tall and clad in fine robes, his hair dark and intricately braided. But, it was not Lord Elrond.

"Mae govannen, Halbarad. I am glad to see you."

Swallowing quickly to mask his surprise, Halbarad inclined his head and swept his hand out in the formal elvish gesture of greeting, "Mae govannen, Lord Erestor. It is a pleasure to set foot in these halls once again."

Erestor nodded, and then gestured to the hallway behind him, "Come, I will bring you to Lord Elrond, for he wishes to speak to you. A servant will guide your men to the guestrooms and provide food and drink."

"Aye, I thank you, Lord Erestor."

Halbarad nodded towards his men who accepted that they would have to wait for news on their Chieftain, and then Halbarad followed Erestor down the hallway and up some stairs. The elven Lord said nothing more, and Halbarad could feel his insides churning. He had met Lord Erestor only a few times before, but never had the elf been so…closed.

There was no smile on his lips, no small talk, no nothing. They walked through the corridors of the house, now and then passing by a servant or another of Lord Elrond's advisors, but none of them spoke or smiled in greeting.

The frown on Halbarad's forehead deepened, and he was just taking a deep breath to ask Lord Erestor what this was all about, when the elf stopped and opened a finely carved door. He stepped inside the private study of Lord Elrond and indicated an armchair near the hearth.

"Lord Elrond will be here in a few moments. Please, make yourself comfortable while you wait. Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?"

"Yes, thank you."

Lord Erestor handed him a glass of red wine and then left him alone, leaving the door open a crack.

Halbarad took a sip from the wine, but his mind was not on the drink, and so he never noticed that it was some of the best wine in all of Middle-earth he drank and not merely any wine. He sat down near the fire and gazed into the flames. He couldn't say why he thought so, but he had a feeling that the coming conversation would not cheer him up.

Long minutes passed, but then he heard the light rustling of robes coming from the hallway in his back, and he got to his feet. He knew that even with his keen senses as a ranger, he would not be able to hear an elf approach, and that could only mean that the elf wanted to be heard.

He placed the glass of wine on a small side table and bowed low in greeting when Lord Elrond entered his study.

"Le suilon, Lord Elrond. It is good to see you again."

Elrond nodded in greeting and then gestured for Halbarad to resume his seat, while he sat down opposite from him, after he had poured himself a glass of wine as well.

"And it is good to see you again, Halbarad. I only wished the circumstances were better."

Halbarad could not stop himself from studying Elrond's features. To him, the elf looked tired and worn out, although that was always difficult to say with the Firstborn. But to his eyes, there were lines around Elrond's face that he had never noticed before, and the ancient eyes seemed to lack some of their radiance.

Shifting uneasily in his seat, Halbarad asked hesitatingly, "My Lord?"

To his surprise, Elrond sighed and then leaned back in his seat, "Forgive me, Halbarad. You had a long journey, and you must be weary of both body and mind. I will tell you what you want to know, but first…have you done as my sons asked of you?"

"Aye, I have." Halbarad nodded his head to underline his words before he continued, "We rode along the base of the cliffs until we found what we had been looking for."

"And?" Elrond's tone was forcefully neutral, but Halbarad could hear a slight tremor in the voice, but he knew not which news the elven Lord was dreading.

"He is dead, my Lord. We found his body and buried it. And we took back what had been taken by him."

With that said, Halbarad rose to his feet and unsheathed a long sword at his side, presenting Elladan's finely crafted blade. Only then did Elrond notice that Halbarad had been carrying two swords.

Elrond took the blade and placed it next to him, his eyes never leaving Halbarad's face. Knowing what the elven Lord was waiting for, Halbarad reached inside his tunic, where most of the rangers' tunics had a secret pocket, and when his hand re-emerged, he held the ring of Barahir in his hand.

Elrond released his breath that he had not even noticed holding, and took the ring from Halbarad's fingers. It was back; it was safe. The heirloom that had been in his family for so long, that had passed down from father to son for so many generations.

Letting his fingers caress the fine silver band and then rest briefly on the green gem that sat in its middle, Elrond nodded his thanks, before he suddenly stretched out his arm and handed the ring back to Halbarad.

"I think it is only appropriate that the one who retrieved it shall return it to its owner."

Swallowing, Halbarad took the ring and then bowed his head. "Thank you, my Lord."

Elrond sighed once more and gestured to Halbarad's forgotten glass of wine. "And now it is time that you learn of why you have been summoned, and what this is all about. Drink, Halbarad, for this is a long tale and better not heard on an empty stomach."

--oOo--

The darkness of nighthad lain itself over the ground of Imladris, and the fire in Aragorn's room had burned low. The embers glowed red and orange, bathing the room in a comfortable gloom. The curtains had been drawn to the side, letting the white light of the full moon shine into the room.

A soft knocking roused Aragorn out of a slight slumber. Before he could answer, the door to his room opened, and at first moment Aragorn could not tell who had entered. The figure was tall as an elf, but too broad shouldered. Blinking to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his vision, Aragorn tried to sit up straighter in bed, but he winced slightly in pain when his ribs and knee protested the movement.

The door closed and then the figure approached the bed. And then, Aragorn could finally make out who had entered his room.

"Halbarad! What are you doing here?" For indeed, his father and brothers had told him that they had send a message to the rangers, but no one had told him that the rangers had come to Imladris.

Bowing, Halbarad smiled at him, "It is good to see you, my Lord. Lord Elrond sent for the rangers and we arrived yesterday at Imladris' borders."

And then Halbarad told Aragorn how he had met up with the twins and Glorfindel and that Elladan had asked him to go looking for the body of the Gondorian.

"So he is truly dead this time?" Aragorn asked with a deep sigh.

Halbarad, who had sat down in a chair beside the bed, nodded. "Aye, he is, Aragorn. We buried his body."

For a moment neither of them spoke, but then Halbarad cleared his throat and reached inside his tunic. "Aragorn, Elladan told us that we should search the body, which we did."

And he reached out his hand, opened his fist and showed Aragorn the silver ring of Barahir. "I think this belongs to you, my Lord."

At first Aragorn said nothing but gazed at the ring which glimmered red in the glow of the fire. Numerous emotions flittered across his face, too fast for Halbarad to read. Then, he reached out and took the offered ring with a heavily bandaged hand.

"I thought I had lost it. I mean, I supposed he had it, but…" His voice trailed away, but there was no need for words; Halbarad knew very well what the ring meant to Aragorn.

"Thank you, Halbarad." Their eyes met and held, and Aragorn smiled briefly before he turned his gaze away and placed the ring on his left index finger, right were it belonged.

Halbarad let his eyes travel over his friend's body, taking in the bandaged hand, the bruises, the shallow breathing that surely resulted from the broken ribs, the bandages that peeked out from under the neck of the nightshirt, and the elevated leg that was propped up on several pillows.

Elrond had told him what had happened, but seeing his friend in this condition and being told what had happened, were two very different things. He felt a surge of anger sweep through him at the men who had done this, but then he remembered that the ones responsible for his friend's pain were dead, which cooled his anger. A little.

"Hal, what is done is done. I live." Aragorn's soft voice caught him off guard, and he smiled grimly.

"Still, this should not have happened. Aragorn, I…"

"Oh no, not you too." The slightly amused voice of Aragorn cut him off, and with a lopsided grin Aragorn continued, "It was not your fault that this happened, and even had I had a guard of rangers with me, Dagnir would have found a way to have his revenge. What is done is done."

And in a softer tone he added, his eyes suddenly very sad, "And we can only deal with what is yet to come."

Halbarad had the feeling as if Aragorn's grey eyes burned right into his, searching before his friend looked away, his gaze lying on the dark night outside the window.

"Aragorn, Lord Elrond told me. He told me of the poison, and the possibility that there is no cure."

Aragorn took a deep breath and smiled sadly at his friend. "That is well, for I feared I would have to tell you. I do not think I am up to that yet."

Surprised at his friend's honest display of weakness, Halbarad leaned forwards in his chair and said agitatedly, "But, Aragorn, surely there must be something we can do. Your father told me that Gandalf is still out there, searching. Someone as wise as he will find something to help you."

"Halbarad, we do not know where he is, or how long my brothers and I still have. Perhaps we should…perhaps it is time we …"

Aragorn's voice faltered, but Halbarad understood only too well what his friend tried to say. And he absolutely did not agree with him. "No. You are still with us, and as long as we cannot say for sure if there is an antidote, I will not take over command, and you will not delegate your leadership."

Aragorn tried to protest, but his friend cut him off roughly, "No! Listen, Aragorn. My patrol and I will stay in Imladris for as long as this nightmare continues. Let us not talk about this now, but wait a bit longer. Please."

"Alright, if that is your wish. But I feel that we will have to talk about it ere this is over."

"Then let us talk about it when we need, but not sooner," Halbarad said and placed a hand on Aragorn's forearm. Nodding, Aragorn smiled tiredly at his friend.

"It is good to see you, Hal. I am glad you are here."

"That's what friends are for, Aragorn."

It grew silent in the room; the only sound the crackle of the fire. Aragorn had closed his eyes, but he did not sleep yet. Too many thoughts raced through his head, but he could feel the pull of sleep at the edges of his mind.

The sound of creaking leather and of chair legs scrapingover the floor made him turn his head sleepily, "Halbarad?"

"I let you sleep, you need your rest."

"No, I mean…please, stay. I enjoy your company."

"As you wish." And with that Halbarad sat down again. Inside he was glad that his friend had asked him to stay, for he did not wish to leave just yet. Who knew what the future might bring, and how soon it would take his friend from his side?

Only a little later Aragorn's breathing deepened and evened out, indication that he had finally fallen asleep. Too tired from his long trip, Halbarad fell asleep soon after him, only waking a few hours later to the sound of Elladan stoking the fire and Elrohir draping a blanket over him. But the elves did not stay, and so he fell asleep again, holding a silent vigil over his Chieftain and friend.

--oOo--

The days passed slowly and at the same time too fast. They had heard no word from Gandalf, had seen no sign that the Istar was on his way back to Imladris. Every morning and evening Elrond would treat Legolas's broken shoulder blade and tend to Aragorn's wounds, but in all the days that passed, the tension inside the house build steadily.

There was no laughter, no jokes or pranks, no teasing or jesting. It was as if everybody was waiting for something, although no one knew what it was they were exactly waiting for. Conversation over meals were quiet and subdued, and none of the elves or humans residing in the Last Homely House felt much appetite.

True to their words, Aragorn and Halbarad had not spoken about the leadership of the Dunedain again, but Halbarad felt that his friend wanted to speak of it, as if Aragorn wanted to make sure that his people were in good hands after he was gone. But although Halbarad's mind knew that they should speak about it as long as it was still possible, his heart constricted painfully at the thought and so, with the passing of the days, he visited Aragorn less and less, as if that would delay the inevitable.

For Aragorn's part, his broken ribs healed nicely, as they had already began to mend on their way back to his home, and the wound in his shoulder and hand pained him little, due to the salves his father applied regularly. His knee was another matter, but pain reducing massages and teas, as well as salves and the strong and supporting bandaging that Elrond had insisted upon helped him to deal with the injury. Truth be told, on the fourth day after his return to Imladris, Aragorn was ready to be about once more.

It was not as it usually was, that he hated to be bound to the sickbed and thought he was healthy enough to be about again. No, he knew that he had been injured gravely and that his body needed time to rest and heal. It was rather that he inwardly feared that he was sleeping the last days of his life away in his bed, and his heart wished to walk around in his home, look at the pictures, smell the ancient trees, see friendly faces and take with him as much as he could.

For indeed, Aragorn held little hope that he could be saved. He could almost feel the poison running through his veins, and he knew that it was only a matter of time until the poison would attack again. The four-day limit between the attacks was almost up, and he dreaded what the next stage would be. More pain? Hallucinations? He knew not, and although he was home now, with his father at his side and all the supplies they could only wish for, he feared that he would not survive the next stage of the poison.

His brothers were another matter. They were not injured, were healthy elves. The poison had been made for humans, and the only reason that the twins were suffering from it was the fact that they had a little human blood in their veins, diluted as it may be. There was still hope in Aragorn's heart that the twins would be able to overcome the poison. Perhaps their elven blood would prove to be their saving grace.

Currently, the twins had left his room to go speak with their father, and Legolas was looking after his horse. He had been delighted to learn that the faithful animal had found its way to Imladris, and he was very glad that the horse had not been injured in the encounter with the bear or its subsequent flight through the forest.

Sighing and shifting his position in his bed, Aragorn gazed out the huge window. It had snowed during the night, and the balcony was covered in white snow that sparkled in the sunlight. There were tiny footprints in the snow on the balustrade from the winter birds that resided in the valley, and Aragorn smiled slightly. Even if life in this very room, his room, was subdued and mellow, the life outside of his window was still going on and ever would be.

But would life in the Last Homely House return to its normal pace once this was over, one way or another? If he died, would his family find the strength to go on? Or would they not be able to keep their hearts form turning to the darker side of grief and fade? Would they leave for the Grey Havens? Did they even care enough for him to be in that danger?

Oh no, Aragorn knew that that last thought was ridiculous. Time and time again his family had proven to him that they loved him, and he knew his death would hit them hard. Especially his father, who had already lost a brother to mortality and all the other heirs of Isildur that had been fostered in these halls, although he had never been as close to his ancestors as he had been to him.

Another sigh escaped Aragorn's lips and he shook his head slightly. It would do no good to ponder on these dark thoughts now. Had his father not told him this very morning that there was still hope as long as they lived? That sometimes help came from unexpected places and that a battle was only lost if the fighters surrendered? Aye, maybe, but with every hour that passed, Aragorn felt a coldness settle in his stomach that had nothing to do with the winter outside.

It was only a matter of time till the poison attacked again, and he knew that shielding his thoughts from the inevitable would only make matters worse. Much worse.

--oOo--

"Ada, perhaps we could send out a messenger to search for Mithrandir. You said he was making for Tharbad. With a quick and rested horse, with little supplies that weigh a rider down…" Elladan asked his father tentatively.

Gazing out of the window in his study, his hands clasped behind his back, Elrond shook his head slowly, "I already thought about that possibility. Any rider we send could miss Mithrandir and in this weather we cannot send out anyone without the basic supplies. With the cold and the snow, the wolves will the hunting the plains of Eriador, as will the bears, not that the river might be frozen over. No, it is too dangerous."

The twins sighed in unison, but they had already feared that answer, and they were both experienced enough to know that their father was right. But still, to sit around at home and do nothing did not sit well with them. They were made for action; they wanted to do something productive to help their current situation.

Sending a quick glance to his brother who leaned against the wall next to one of the bookshelves, Elladan ventured hesitatingly, "But, ada, what if Ro and I…"

"No! You stay here until this is over,." Elrond's voice brooked not argument, but it was gentle at the same time.

"As you wish, ada. We will stay. It is just that we feel so…so…helpless. Is there really nothing we can do?" Elrohir said.

With a sad smile adorning his lips, Elrond turned around to them and spoke softly, "Stay with me, stay with your brother and friend. Do not let your heads hang, my sons, for we should use the time that has been given to us and … " His voice caught in his throat, but the twins knew that their was talking about, for they felt the same.

"Ada…" Elladan made his way over to his father and encircled him in a fierce hug, pressing his head into his father's dark hair and enjoying the closeness of the contact. He felt his father's arm hug him back, and for a moment he felt as a small elfling once more, secure in his father's embrace, save from the dangers of the world and the evil that lingered just outside the door of the house.

He heard his move away from the bookshelf behind him to join them in the embrace, but when Elrohir did not join them, he lifted his head and gazed over his shoulder back at his brother, "Ro?"

Immediately, uneasiness settled in his stomach and he pulled away from his father, who was studying Elrohir intently.

"Ion nin, what is it?"

Elrohir stood before the bookshelf he had leaned against, his right hand lifted before him and he seemed to intently study his fingers. Other than that he stood perfectly still.

"Ro?"

Elrohir lifted his head, and when Elladan and Elrond saw his face, they quickly moved over to him. Elladan gripped his shoulders tightly, while Elrond looked intently into his frightened eyes. Only then did Elladan notice what his brother had been looking at and what had stopped him in his tracks. There was blood on Elrohir's finger; not much, but it stood out starkly against the pale skin of the elf.

A small trail of blood slowly trickled down Elrohir's nose, and when Elrond tilted his son's head to the side, he could see another trail of blood run down the side of his head, from his ear.

"Ion nin, come, sit down." Elrond gently guided his son to one of the chairs that stood before the hearth and pressed him into it, while he reached inside his robes and took out a handkerchief, with which he wiped the blood from Elrohir's fingers and then from his face.

"Ro, how do you feel, are you in pain?" Elladan knelt beside his brother and took his hand in his own.

"No, I feel no pain. Just a bit dizzy and light-headed."

More blood ran down from his nose, and he made as if to wipe it away with his sleeve, but Elrond quickly caught his wrist and placed the already bloodstained handkerchief in his hand. "Here, my son, use that."

Elrohir took the piece of cloth and pressed it against his nose while his father tucked stands of his dark hair behind his ears and out of the way. He needed to examine his son more closely, and the hair would only hinder him.

"Elrohir, bend your head forwards, please," Elrond instructed, and Elrohir did as he was told. Almost immediately the world spun around him, and he closed his eyes, moaning softly.

"Ro?" Elladan grabbed his brother's free hand and gave it a soft squeeze, his eyes never leaving his brother's pale face.

"Dizzy…headache." That was all Elrohir could say, for suddenly a fierce pounding pain started in the back of his head, so painful that it nearly drowned out his brother's voice.

"Lean back, Ro. Let me take a look at you." Upon his father's words, Elrohir leaned his head against the backrest of the chair, but the pounding in his head did not cease, on the contrary, it seemed to become stronger and stronger until Elrohir thought his head had reached the size of a pumpkin.

"Ada, it hurts," he moaned softly, holding tightly to his brother's hand. The pain had enveloped his whole head, and every breath he took seemed to make it worse. Elrohir could feel his father's gentle touch upon his brow and ears, but even the slightest touch hurt greatly.

Seeing that the bleeding had already stopped, Elrond turned to Elladan. "Ion nin, go to my room and fetch me the jar with the pain reducing herbs as well as the glass with the cooling salve that I normally use for burns."

"Aye, ada. Will you bring him to the healing wing or to his room?"

"His room, he will be more comfortable there. Now, quick."

Elladan gave his brother's hand another squeeze and hurried out of the room to do as his father had asked him. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he knew that the poison had been activated once more. Things had been set in motion, they were too late…Mithrandir had not come in time.

While he pelted down the hallway, he nearly collided with Halbarad, who was on his way to Aragorn's room, feeling that he could no longer delay the inevitable and that they needed to talk about the future of the Dunedain should it come to the worst.

Only the natural, quick reflexes of Elladan and the trained instincts of Halbarad avoided a collision, and when they had both found their equilibrium once more, Halbarad asked worriedly, "Elladan, what happened? Is Aragorn…."

"No, no, it is Ro. The poison has attacked once more. I need to go and fetch ada's things. Halbarad, stay with Estel."

Elladan was already on the move again, but he stopped once more and added more softly, "Don't tell him just yet, he would only become upset, and he is not well himself. We will get him if…if..:"

"I see, Elladan, don't worry," Halbarad reassured the clearly distraught elf, and when Elladan rounded a corner, Halbarad made his way quickly to Aragorn's room. His heart was heavy as he knocked and opened the door. It had begun once more.

Elrond carefully helped Elrohir to his feet and stabilized him when the younger elf swayed dizzily for a moment. Wrapping a strong arm around his son's shoulders, he steered him out of the room and down the hallway, then up the stairs and down to his own room, where he would be more comfortable.

He gently laid Elrohir down on the bed, and then stoked the fire in the hearth. The sun shone in from outside and bathed the room in bright light, but when Elrohir flinched from the light and turned his head away, Elrond closed the curtains and instead lit a few candles.

A few moments later Elladan entered the room, the requested items in his hands. He quickly placed them on the desk in his brother's room and then sat down on the bed, taking hold of his brother's trembling hand.

"Ro? What is it?"

"It hurts, Dan, it hurts so much." Elrohir's voice was barely above a whisper, and Elladan could clearly hear the pain in his brother's voice. Whatever the poison was doing to him was causing him extreme pain.

"Where, Ro? Where does it hurt?"

"My head hurts. Dan, please…" Elrohir squeezed his brother's hand so tightly that it hurt, but he needed another outlet for his pain. His head hurt with a vengeance and even the smallest movement seemed to send a hot dagger right through his head. Burning needles seemed to poke his eyes and even his breathing hurt his head.

"Ada, what can we do?" Elladan asked, his face etched in worry. It was not like his twin to easily admit to be in pain, and it scared him that his brother would do so now.

Reaching the bedside, Elrond bent low and opened the glass jar that held the cooling ointment. "Here my son, massage this into his neck and temples. I will make a tea to ease the pain."

As gently as he could, Elladan began to massage the ointment into his brother's skin, but he had only just began when Elrohir jerked under him and pulled away. A small groan left his lips, and he tried to roll up into a ball. "Stop, stop, hurts, Dan, please."

"Ro, I am sorry. Ro?" Elladan's voice had taken on a pleading tone, and he stopped his movements immediately, loath to cause his twin more pain. Was the headache so severe that touch alone caused Elrohir incredible pain?

A distraught sound left Elrohir's lips and he began to rock back and forth, obviously trying to ease the pain he was feeling. His face had paled considerably, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His breath came in small gasps, and when Elladan reached out instinctively to help him, Elrohir groaned and rolled away from him.

"Ro, please…" Elladan said pleadingly. He could not do this; this was too much. His brother was in pain, he was suffering, and he? He could only sit there and watch and do nothing. Hot tears stung his eyes, and Elladan felt his throat constrict and begin to hurt as he tried to suppress his tears.

Wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic, Elladan watched helplessly as all colour left his brother's face, and Elrohir began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Ada, help him!"

"I am here, my son. I am ready." Elrond hastened to the bed, a cup of tea in his hand. Together with Elladan he helped Elrohir to drink the tea, and although the younger twin tried his best to hide the pain the touch caused him, Elrond and Elladan saw him suffer.

Only when the tea took effect and sent Elrohir into a deep, dreamless sleep, did they feel some of the tension leave their bodies. For long minutes they sat on the bed next to the sleeping twin; there was no need to speak, for they both knew that Elladan would be next and then Aragorn. It was inevitable.

Many minutes later, Elrond broke the silence, his voice shaking slightly, "Ion nin, I will prepare the tea for you. You will sleep through this new devilry."

"I do not fear the poison, ada."

"But I do, ion nin, I do."

Tbc…

_Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews; they are the only things that keep me writing at the moment. Fanfiction does not let me reply at the moment, dunno why, but I cherish them all and keep them save. :o)_


	35. 34 Without Hope

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N:** Hello again! I know this chapter comes a bit late, but life has not slowed down yet. I answered your wonderfully inspiring reviews when I read them, but I am sorry if I replied to some of you two times and I apologize if I forgot someone. Sorry! So, lean back, fasten your seatbelt, take your tissues, grab a chocolate ranger/ elf and enjoy!

_Elvish translations:_

Hir nin: My Lord

Mellon nin: My friend

* * *

"_And if you want to talk about what will be, come and sit with me. Cry on my shoulder, I'm a friend."_

_(James Blunt – Cry)

* * *

_

Chapter 34: Without Hope

When his horse stumbled in a snowdrift, nearly unseating Gandalf, who clung to the reins with stiff fingers, the Istar cursed silently under his breath in a language that most living beings on Arda could not even remember ever existed.

For days Gandalf had ridden through the cold, battling the elements as well as his own bodily limitations. The weather had turned worse with the days, and now, when he was only two days from his destination, the snow cover was so thick that it hid even larger boulders from view.

His horse was tired, having carried him day and night with only little rest. The animal had been able to find food under the snow, but the fact that rider and horse were hungry as well as thirsty from lack of water was undeniable. When Gandalf had set out from the small village, he had taken some herbs and even two ancient books with him, but there had been little food in the potion makers house, and truth be told, Gandalf had not taken the time to search for it, either.

No, the only thing on his mind had been the fact that he now knew the solution to their problem. He knew –basically- how to make the antidote, how to save his friends; but that did not take away his worry. How in the name of the Valar was he supposed to reach Imladris in time and how was he supposed to find lilies of the valley? His only hope now rested with Elrond and his vast assortment of herbs and plants.

Patting his horse on the neck and whispering encouraging words, Gandalf slowed his pace and let his eyes roam over the plane surrounding him. Soon he would have to cross the Loudwater, and the fact that it had snowed heavily these last few days and that the river was most likely swollen and difficult to cross did nothing to lighten Gandalf's mood.

A sudden gust of wind pulled at his pointy hat, and with a grumble he leaned closer to his horse's neck, drawing the edge of his hat deeper into his face. Securing his hat with on hand and holding onto the frozen reins with the other, Gandalf sent a heartfelt prayer to the Valar to help him and his friends.

--oOo--

Even though the sleeping tea had sent Elladan into a deep sleep, the attack of the poison was visible in the set line of his jaw, the frown that marred his brow even in sleep, and the bright red blood that trickled down his face and neck. The bleeding stopped quickly however, and Elrond felt certain that both his sons would survive this stage of the poison. They would not feel the pain it caused or the heartache that came with it for the bystanders.

But, having taken care of the twins, Elrond could no longer shut his mind from the fact that the next victim of the poison would be Aragorn. Sooner or later Aragorn would start to show the first symptoms, and after that his condition would deteriorate quickly, more likely than not even quicker than it had been the case with the twins, due to his human blood.

Sighing deeply, Elrond placed the wet cloth with which he had wiped Elladan's face into the shallow basin on the nightstand. The twins were sleeping side by side in Elrohir's bed and would do so for the rest of the day and a good part of the night. With a last fond look at his sons, Elrond stood from the bed and walked to the door.

Taking a steadying breath, he resolutely opened it and left the twins under the care of Erestor, who waited just outside. Nodding to his Seneschal, Elrond made his way down the hallway. His face might have looked calm and indifferent, but inside he was torn apart. What was he to do?

The healer in him knew that it would be best to send Aragorn into a dreamless sleep and save him from this stage of the poison. But the father in Elrond cringed at that thought. What if his son was still too weak from his injuries to wake from the sleeping potion? What would happen if he sent Aragorn into a sleep and the poison affected him differently than his brothers? Had the twins not told him that the poison had affected them differently before? That they had felt sick to the stomach where Aragorn had suffered great pain?

Before he even fully realized it, Elrond had reached the door that would lead him into his youngest son's room. He had to make a decision, now. Taking another deep breath and unconsciously straightening his robes, Elrond was just about to knock, when voices reached his sensitive ears. Leaning closer to the door, Elrond listened. He had no intention to eavesdrop, but if his son and …Halbarad were talking, perhaps he would not interrupt them. And, it meant that he could postpone his decision, if only for some minutes.

On the other side of the wooden door, Halbarad was pacing agitatedly, running a hand through his dark hair. His voice sounded slightly raspy when he voiced his opinion. "No, Aragorn. There is no way you can convince me to do that. Not now and not ever."

"Halbarad, you know that it has to be done." Aragorn's voice sounded firm, but there was an underlying tremor in it.

Turning around and facing his friend, Halbarad shook his head and pointed a finger at Aragorn. "Why? We do not even know what will happen."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in frustration, Aragorn said calmly, "No, we do not. But just in case that…."

Halbarad cut him off quickly, "See? You say so yourself. So, why rush things? We can wait a few more days, see how things develop."

Sitting up straighter in the bed and resting his back more heavily against the headboard, Aragorn stared at Halbarad. He knew that something was not right, for neither his brothers had come to visit him for hours, and nor had his father or Glorfindel. The fact that Halbarad would not meet his eyes when he had come into his room and the fact that Halbarad had rambled on about something totally unimportant had sounded the alarm bells in Aragorn's head.

He knew that the four days of peace were over, that the poison would attack soon…or already had. For all he knew, his father was probably tending the twins in that very moment. For days Aragorn had debated how to best break the truce Halbarad and he had established about the fact that they needed to talk about the future of the rangers. He simply felt that he had to talk about it now, that there would probably be no later.

Licking his dry lips, Aragorn tried once more to reason with his friend, "Halbarad, you and I have talked about this already. There are already rules that ensure that the Dunedain will not go without leadership. The only thing that needs to be done now is that they will be ratified so that they can be put into force. All you need to do is witness me signing my…"

"No! I will not do that." Halbarad once more shook his head. He knew of the rules that had been in force after Arathorn's death and the new rules that Aragorn had set up, but, by the stars and the seas, he was not willing to stand there and witness Aragorn step back from his post as Chieftain.

"Halbarad…"

"No!" Halbarad stopped in his pacing long enough to shoot a fiery glare in Aragorn's direction. "Aragorn, you know that once you, Valar forbid, die, the rules will be put into force automatically. There is no reason to step down now, when we do not even know if anything will happen."

Sighing, Aragorn followed his friend's pacing, whishing he could get out of bed and grab Halbarad by the shoulders to force him to look at him. "I know that. But it will be easier if I delegate leadership now. Some time has passed since the rules have been made about who shall take over leadership. Halbarad, some of the Dunedain on that list are not even alive anymore. Gaps have to be filled, posts reassigned. If I delegate leadership now, there will be no problems later on."

Snorting, Halbarad stepped up to the huge window and let his gaze travel over the snow-covered valley. "We are rangers, Dunedain. There will be no quarrel about leadership."

"I know, probably not, but think about it this way. I have no heirs, Halbarad. It is not like in the last centuries, when there was an heir after the last Chieftain died. The old laws were only in force for a few weeks, perhaps a few months until the new Chieftain could be located and take over leadership. They were never made to last forever. But this time, this time it will be permanent."

When his friend did not answer but merely crossed his arms across his broad chest and stared out at the snow, Aragorn softened his voice, "Halbarad, please. Do not make this more difficult for me than it already is."

Sighing, Halbarad bowed his head, letting his shoulder long hair hide his face. For long moments neither of the two rangers spoke, but then Halbarad said softly, "What would you have me do, my Lord?"

A small, sad smile appeared on Aragorn's face. "Thank you, Hal."

Outside the room, Elrond felt his breath catch in his throat. His stomach twisted into a tight knot. Of course he knew that it was probably for the best to discuss these things now, while Aragorn was still coherent enough to do so, but to hear his son say those words. That hurt.

Taking another deep breath, Elrond turned away from the door and slowly walked down the corridor. He would give his son and Halbarad some more time to sort things out. After all, so far Aragorn had shown no symptoms and he was not alone; if anything happened to him while he was gone, Halbarad would alert him.

--oOo--

Being in the stables and with his horse had calmed Legolas. The familiar smells, the hay, the warmth, it had not only soothed his frayed nerves, but had also given him the time he had needed to come to grips with what had happened since they had arrived back in Imladris.

Patting his horse goodbye for the moment, Legolas rolled his injured shoulder slightly and then readjusted the bandage that wound around his neck. The injury was not truly bothering him, but due to the fact that he was not able to move his arm, the muscles had become stiff and cold. He longed for some movement, some training, perhaps even a massage to ease the stiffness.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, he made his way back to the main house. The snow crunched softly under his feet, reflecting the light of the sun that stood already high in the sky. Some birds that wintered in the elven haven twittered merrily, and in the distance Legolas could see two white bunnies roll around in the snow. It seemed all so peaceful, so quiet.

But Legolas knew it was not. Life was fragile. Life was not eternal. His gaze fell on the Last Homely House, and he thought he could almost feel the dread and pain that emanated from the building. It was as if a dark cloud hung over the house, being in stark contrast with the bright light of the afternoon.

Nevertheless, his steps led him up the steps and into the house, where it was quiet and hushed. The Hall of Fire was empty, as was the Great Hall. Frowning, Legolas turned and headed up the stairs that would bring him to the family wing. Where was everybody?

A servant hushed by him, not meeting his eyes, and Legolas felt a by now very familiar uneasiness settle in his stomach. Was had happened? Quickening his steps, he turned around a corner and nearly ran right into Elrond. Back paddling, Legolas lifted his eyes and turned slightly widened blue orbs at the Lord of the house.

"My Lord, what has happened?"

Elrond gave him a sad smile and then gestured towards Elrohir's room. "The poison has shown itself while you were in the stables, Legolas."

When the younger elf's eyes grew large and he paled visibly, Elrond hastily added, "But do not fear. The twins sleep peacefully, and Estel has not yet shown any symptoms."

With trembling hands, Legolas opened the door and gazed at the sleeping twins for a moment, before he asked quietly. "What did this devilry do this time?"

Elrond explained what had happened, and with every word that left his lips, Legolas felt the knot in his stomach tighten. For a few moments none of them spoke, and then Legolas asked softly, "And Estel? What about him? Do you intend to send him to sleep as well, hir nin?"

Although his voice had been calm, and he looked composed on the outside, inwardly, Legolas dreaded the answer. Perhaps that was because he was not sure which would be better. To send Aragorn into a deep sleep so that he would not have to suffer through the pain and fear, or to keep him awake, so that he could battle the new stage of the poison consciously. Not for the first time Legolas was glad that he was not the Lord of this House, but merely a warrior when he was not in Imladris.

"I will let him decide. But I will try to convince him to take the sleeping draught. It will be better that way."

And when Elrond walked away towards his study, and Legolas made his way over to the door that lead to Aragorn's room, he could not help but wonder whether that solution would be better for Aragorn, or for them.

He knocked at the door and after being told to enter , he opened it and walked inside. Aragorn was still lying in the bed, propped up against several pillows and resting against the headboard, while Halbarad sat at the desk, quill in hand and nose close to a scroll of parchment.

The moment he stepped into the room, Legolas could feel the underlying tension that seemed to fill the chamber. Despite the warm fire that burned merrily in the hearth, and the bright sunlight that filtered into the room through the large window, the room seemed cold. Halbarad briefly looked up from whatever it was he was doing and then returned to his work. He did not look happy.

Making his way over to the bed, Legolas smiled at Aragorn, trying to ignore his feeling of unease. Again.

"How are you doing, mellon nin?"

"Better, Legolas."

Legolas tilted his head to the side and studied his friend for a moment longer. The dark circles under his eyes were not as prominent as before, and his face had regained some colour. But, still, there were lines of pain in his face, and he looked exhausted.

Aragorn, feeling his friend's scrutiny, patted the side of the bed with his hand, indicating Legolas to take a seat. "How are you doing, Legolas? How is your shoulder?"

"Ah, I barely feel it." The bed dipped slightly as Legolas sat down, and when Aragorn nodded in answer and then turned his face to look out the window, Legolas frowned.

Something was definitely not right. Elrond had told him that Aragorn knew not of the attack of the poison, but, could it be that he knew? Was it because of that knowledge that he was so…distant? No, that was unlikely, for, who could have told him? No, it had to be something else.

His frown deepened when stillness settled over the room, and this time it was no comfortable silence, but something more sinister. For a moment Legolas felt again as if he had intruded on some private meeting, as if he was the fifth wheel on the cart. And then, the scratching of the quill reached his ears, and he suddenly knew that it was not _his_ presence that made the situation awkward.

For the briefest of moments Legolas debated with himself whether he should ask or not, but he had enough of riddles and secrets to last him a few hundred years. Lifting his voice, he asked freely, his voice light, "Halbarad, what is it you are writing?"

The scratching of the quill stopped for a second, only to then resume again. "Nothing."

Quirking an eyebrow, Legolas got to his feet. Shooting Aragorn a quick look and finding that the man would not meet his eyes, Legolas stepped up behind Halbarad and peered over his shoulder. "Nothing? Does not look like nothing."

He bent down and tried to read the flowing script.

…_in the case of the death of the last heir to the…._

His breath caught in his throat, and Legolas blinked in shock. This could not be. That was not possible! In a motion almost too fast for mortal eyes to see, Legolas grabbed the parchment, yanked it out of Halbarad's hands and scanned the lines.

…_I herewith declare that…._

…_shall lead the rangers after my death…_

… _The Captains of the rangers, namely…_

Too shocked to say anything, Legolas read the declaration a second time, and then he let his hands fall limply to his sides, clutching the scroll in his suddenly lifeless fingers. His eyes sought out his friend, but Aragorn shied away from his gaze.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Legolas never took his eyes from Aragorn when he said briskly, "Halbarad, leave us…please."

The ranger obeyed only too willingly, leaving the room quietly and without looking back. When the door closed with a soft click, Legolas took a steadying breath before he approached the bed.

He had not even opened his mouth to say anything, when Aragorn stated, "It has to be done. The sooner the better."

"But, Estel! Do you know what this piece of parchment means? I mean, do you know what you are giving up by signing it?" Disbelief coloured his words, but he cared not.

"Aye, I know. But it will only be enforced should it come to the worst. Otherwise, it will mean nothing at all."

Still, Aragorn would not look at him, and in a sudden surge of anger, Legolas stepped around the bed and stared at his friend's face. "You have given up!"

It was a statement, no question.

To his horror, Aragorn bowed his head. No! What little hope he had had that his assumption had been wrong was shattered in that moment.

"Estel? Why?"

Aragorn said nothing for a moment, and then he said softly, "It is too late, Legolas. There is nothing we can do. You know that and I know that, too."

"But…Mithrandir is still out there. He will come."

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Aragorn finally turned to meet his eyes. To his surprise, Legolas saw not only a deep sadness in them, but also acceptance.

"He will not be here in time, mellon nin."

With weak knees, all fight and anger gone, Legolas countered, "What makes you think so?"

A sad smile flashed across Aragorn's young features, "Halbarad is a good ranger and a loyal friend, but he is a bad liar."

"You know of the new attack?"

"I know now. How do my brothers fare?"

Sitting down on the bed, Legolas let his gaze rest on his hands. "They are holding their own. Your father drugged them and sent them to sleep, so that they would not feel the pain. He will be in to talk to you shortly."

Aragorn sighed again and then nodded his head wearily. "I see."

Still holding the declaration in his hands, Legolas smoothed the parchment and then read it once more. The words were precise and the meaning clear. Legolas smiled, "It seems as if you thought that out well. It is all in here, nothing left out."

"Most of it is taken over from the old rules. I only added a bit here and there," Aragorn said tiredly, leaning more heavily against the pillows.

"Ah yes, I can see your touch in it, my friend." A smile crossed Legolas's lips. Aragorn may be a good warrior and healer, but it seemed all these tutoring hours with either Glorfindel or Erestor had done him some good after all. With a bit more experience, he would make a good leader of his people, a better one than he already was.

For a long moment Legolas said nothing, but then he reached out and grasped Aragorn's uninjured hand in his own. His blue eyes met Aragorn's and when he knew he had his friend's attention, he stated softly, "Estel, come what may, I will be right here with you."

A genuine smile lit up Aragorn's face, and his voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, "Thank you, Legolas. I am glad you are here with me."

They sat thus for many more minutes, and when the sun was nearing the horizon, Elrond came to speak with his son. It took little convincing to get Aragorn to drink the sleeping tea, and when night settled over the elven valley, Aragorn had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. A few hours later the poison attacked him, making his nose and ears bleed and his body tense in pain, but he slept through it all, unaware of the worry in his friend's eyes or the tension that had settled over the household.

Legolas never left his side during the night while Elrond shared his time between Aragorn and the twins. When morning came, dipping the valley in a bright light, the twins woke from their slumber, feeling tired and sore, but Aragorn slept for most of the day. Only when the sun sank behind the cliffs and announced therewith the approach of night, did he stir in his sleep.

To Legolas's great joy, he woke up shortly after, feeling tired and sore as the twins had done, but he had made it through another attack of the poison. He fell asleep soon after waking, but the tension left the Last Homely House, if only temporarily. Four more days had been gained. Four more days in which Mithrandir had a chance to reach the valley. Four more days in which Aragorn would live…

--oOo--

Aragorn did not know why he had come here. Why he had sneaked out of his room, avoided all other living inhabitants of the house, had ignored the pain in his knee and shoulder and had come here in the middle of the night.

His father had allowed him out of bed yesterday, after making sure that his condition had not worsened too much after the attack of the poison; indeed, he had even given him a pair of finely carved crutches. But, Aragorn was sure that the permission to leave his bed did not include wandering around in the house in the middle of the night.

Grimacing when one of the wooden crutches scraped over the marble floor, and the sound echoed off the walls, Aragorn slowly made his way over to one of the benches that lined the wall. The little trip to the open chamber had tired him, and with a heavy sigh he sat down on the cushions, stretching his injured leg out before him. He rested the crutches against the bench and made sure that they would not slide to the floor, before he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.

The night was cold. It had not snowed for days and the sky was of a clear blue, causing the temperatures to drop even more. Most of the fires in the Last Homely House were kept burning during the nights, but the corridors were chilly nevertheless.

It was quiet in the house as most elves had gone to bed by now. None of the fair beings felt up to hour long singing and story telling in the Hall of Fire these days, mostly due to respect to Elrond and his family.

Aragorn opened his eyes and gazed around the room. It was dark, but the moon shone in through one of the great windows, dipping the room in an almost otherworldly silver light. A light that reflected from the broken shards of the sword that rested on a platter in the hands of a beautiful stature. The shards of Narsil.

A silent sigh left Aragorn's lips as his eyes fell on the heirloom. When he had been told who he was and what was expected of him, he had not been able to come to this room for many days. The truth about his existence, and the pain he had felt at the presumed betrayal of his family, as well as the unexplainable pride he had felt at being Elendil's heir, had kept him away. Only later, a few days before he had left Imladris to join the rangers permanently, had he come to see the shards.

He would never forget that day. He had sat where he now sat, in stunned awe, letting his thoughts run wild. What if he could indeed achieve all that Elrond had told him? What if the dark could be defeated? What if Sauron could be overcome? What if he could make the world a better place? Was he strong enough? Clever enough? Would the rangers accept him? Help him? Teach him to live among men? Would they hail him as Chieftain or reject him? Had his human father stood before these same shards, maybe thinking the same as he did now?

Aragorn smiled at the memory and leaned against the wall in his back. Most of his questions had been answered in the years he had lived with the rangers of the North, but some of them had not. And now, now they would probably never be answered.

Had Elrond not told him that it was his destiny to either rise above all his ancestors, or fall into deep shadow and bring ruin to these lands? (1)Aragorn had always thought that this would in the end be his decision. That, if the fate of Middle-earth indeed lay in his hands, that he would in the end decide. That he would do or not do something to bring about his destiny.

But now…he would die soon, he had no doubt about that. Did that not mean that the vision was untrue? Maybe he was not the one who would do all these things. Maybe it was not his destiny to free Middle-earth from Sauron's shadow.

That in itself was a comfortable thought, but it did not make him feel any better. If he was not the one, then who was it? He was the last heir of the line of Kings, as far as he knew anyway, and if it was not his fate, then who would take up the challenge? And if he was wrong, and he was the one, then what would happen after his death? Did he condemn Middle-earth to darkness and despair?

Aragorn sighed and rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers. He had been unable to sleep and had hoped that the sight of the broken sword would calm his thoughts. That the serenity of the room would soothe his mind as it usually did. But not tonight. The walls seemed to close in on him; the air was stiff, as if laden with sudden accusation.

The longer Aragorn gazed at the dais and the shards of the sword, the more he got lost in his thoughts. He had been successful in his attempt to shut out the true implications of what had happened to him and his brothers. At first, his only aim had been to escape Dagnir, then to reach home, to battle the pain of his injuries, survive the next attack…

But now…there was nothing to do. The only thing he could do was wait. He could pretend to feel fine as long as his brothers, father or Legolas were with him, and he did so. Every time they asked him how he felt, if he wanted to talk about his feelings and his pain, he could talk to them and pretend that he was fine, considering. He pretended that he had accepted his fate. But this night, when he had lain awake with nothing but his thoughts as company, he had no longer been able to pretend.

Valar, he did not want to die! He did not want to leave these shores and go where his ancestors had gone. He had no wish to leave his family behind where they could not follow. Not now, not yet, not ever…

A shiver crawled down Aragorn's spine and suddenly his throat ached terribly. He swallowed thickly but the pain would not go away. Hot tears pricked at his eyes and he closed them, unwilling to let them fall. He had been so strong these last days, for his family, his friends, for Halbarad, for himself…he did not want to break down, for he knew that once he crossed that line, there would be no turning back.

He took a deep breath and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, but when he lifted his head once more to blink against the wetness that had gathered, he tensed in surprise. He was not alone anymore. There, on the other side of the room, stood Legolas, a soft blanket in his hands and an unreadable expression on his face.

For a moment Aragorn gazed at his friend, but then he averted his eyes and looked at the floor. He should have known that Legolas would somehow sense his absence or come looking for him in the night to make sure that he was all right. A moment later he heard the soft footsteps of the elf and then felt the weight of the warm blanket as it was draped over his shoulders.

He more sensed than heard his friend sit down next to him. Legolas said nothing. Maybe that was worse than the lecture he had anticipated for sneaking around in the house. He could deal with an irritated Legolas, but not with a silent once.

After a moment, Aragorn reached out and tightened the blanket around his shoulders. He had not even noticed how cold he felt. Without lifting his head, he spoke softly, "Legolas, I…"

"Shh, no, Estel. You do not have to explain. Just know that I am here for you if you need me, my friend."

It only took these softly spoken words to break the walls that Aragorn had erected around his emotions, and then he was no longer able to suppress the hot tears, and he buried his face in his hands and wept silently. Legolas leaned forwards and began to rub his back in soothing circles, like he had Elrohir seen doing, and when the tears would not slow, he wrapped his friend in his arms and simply held him.

And Aragorn let himself be held while his heart released all his pent up emotions. Valar, he did not want to die and he feared his death.

Tbc…

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_(1) I don't know if Elrond really told him this, but I always liked this part of the tale._

**Do you like this chapter? Wow, I hope so. ;) I am working on the next one and I will post it asap. But I am ending university this coming week, I move, I have exams...Rl can be hard sometimes. g Let me know what you think, mellyn!**


	36. 35 The Worst Of Evils

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N: -peeks out from under the table- Uhm, hello, readers. I know this took long to be posted, but real life still has a hold on me. I ended university, I moved out of my flat, I am searching for a job, I have exams… you get the picture. Oh, and for the first time in six months I am again able to watch tv and my DVDs. So…-smiles sheepishly-**

**Ahem, anyway, thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I loved every single on of them. I will answer them right after posting this chapter. Hope you like it, it is a bit longer than the last few. –g-

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_Elvish terms:_

Mae govannen: Well met

Mae govannen, ingem mellon nin: Well met, my old friend

Mellon nin: My friend

Rim hennaid: Many thanks

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"_Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man."_

_(Friedrich Nietzsche)

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Chapter 35: The worst of evils

Gandalf crossed the Loudwater at midday and entered the woods surrounding the hidden valley of Imladris shortly after. With the deep cliffs to his right and the forest to his left, he rode along the path, his grey hat drawn deeply into his face to fight off the cold wind. His tired horse stumbled on the rocky, snow covered ground, and more often than not Gandalf felt himself slide to the side in the saddle, his legs numb and his hands stiff.

But neither horse nor rider would stop in their restless march. Gandalf felt a sad darkness descend upon his heart, similar to the one he had felt not so long ago when he had read the urgent message from Elrond. He knew that it was not the poison alone he was battling, but time as well. Therefore, he ignored his hunger and thirst and directed his energy to the way before him. Sensing its master's hurry, the loyal horse trudged ever on, snorting heavily.

Soon, he would reach the small path that would lead down into the valley, and then it would be only an hour more before he would be able to see the Last Homely House. Already he imagined to see the warm glow of the lamps, smell the wax of the candles and feel the warmth of the many hearths. With an encouraging pat on the horse's neck, he pressed his heels down gently. "Come, my friend. Fresh hay and warmth is near."

As if understanding Gandalf, the horse nickered softly and then strode out faster. But it had hardly taken ten steps, when it suddenly stopped in its tracks and threw his head back, clearly alerted.

Gandalf frowned. He had not sensed any danger, but he had to admit that maybe he had been too concentrated on his feelings of darkness and despair to truly pay attention to his surroundings. Slowly, he let his hand move to the handle of his sword that he kept at his side. He was too near to the valley to fear wargs or orcs, but hungry wolves or bears were a danger. His horse snorted and pawed the ground before it flicked its ears right and left, listening.

Nothing stirred. His frown deepening, Gandalf tried to sense what had alerted his horse, but he could detect nothing evil. Why then…

Just as suddenly as his horse had become alerted, it calmed down again. It lowered its head and swished its tail, breathing out heavily. White mist clouded its muzzle for a second, and then the horse turned its huge head as if to eye its rider and tell him that all was as it should be. The horse snorted once more, and then began to shift its long nose into the snow to search for some grass that happened to survive the snow.

Relaxing his hold on his sword, Gandalf took a deep steadying breath and then let his gaze travel around the forest to his left. For some silent moments he watched the leafless branches of the trees, but then he huffed into his thick beard.

"Now, is this the new way to welcome travellers to Imladris?"

For a few moments nothing happened, but then a tall figure stepped away from a tree. The elf wore the colours of Imladris, and from the look of him he was part of one of the patrols that guarded the borders. The elf bowed respectfully, "Mae govannen, Mithrandir. We have been hoping to meet you soon on our borders, for Lord Elrond awaits you and has ordered us to watch out for you."

The frown on Gandalf's forehead deepened. "So, did he? Well then, I should be going."

"Indeed, Mithrandir, it was not my intention to stop you. I will send a runner ahead. There are fresh horses stationed around the valley. The next post with a fresh horse for you is just down the path." The elf gestures in the direction of the post and then bowed one more time before he vanished back into the forest, as silently as he had appeared. Gandalf stared at the spot where he had stood a moment longer, before he guided his horse forwards once more.

And as he made his way along the cliff and then down into the valley, he could not shake the feeling that the elf had acted…strange. There had been a sadness in his features that were rare for the otherwise joyful elves of Imladris. With a new pang in his stomach, Gandalf urged his tired horse onwards. The sooner he reached the outpost and changed his horse and then reached Imladris, the better.

To his dismay it took him almost five more hours to reach the cobblestone courtyard in front of the Last Homely House, and when he finally dismounted, the sun was already low in the sky. The snow in the courtyard lay thick, but Gandalf wondered about that oddity only briefly. Normally, the elves would shovel the snow away in case humans or other visitors who were not elves came here.

A stable hand took his horse and led the exhausted animal to the stables, while Gandalf took his wooden staff and ploughed through the snow towards the house. He grumbled under his breath as he stumbled and only his staff saved him from tumbling into the snow. His long cloak was crusted with snow now, wet and heavy, and already Gandalf mused about the lecture he would give his old friend for being so careless in the care of his house.

Reaching the huge front door, Gandalf was about to knock when the door was opened from the inside and Elrond greeted him. The moment the wizard saw his old friend, the fiery words died on his tongue. Elrond looked…tired. Tired and…old. Aye, old. It was the first word that came to Gandalf, and to say that an elf looked old was unusual. Elves did not look old, they looked…eternal.

Overcoming his surprise, Gandalf reached out his hand and grasped Elrond's forearm tightly.

"Mae govannen, ingem mellon nin."

Nodding, Elrond forced a small smile on his lips and then gestured for the Istar to enter. "Come, Mithrandir, leave the coldness outside, it is freezing."

Rubbing his hands together once he was inside, Gandalf suddenly had the odd feeling that it was as cold inside the house as outside, only that the cold was not due to the winter that knocked at the door.

Elrond led him to down the hallway, after a servant had taken Gandalf's wet cloak and heavy woollen tunic. Another servant silently handed him a warmed towel, with Gandalf used to clean his face and hands with. To his surprise, Elrond did not lead him to his private study or the Hall of Fire, as he used to do with his guests. Instead, they soon entered the kitchen, where Elrond asked for a bowl of hot soup and then began to prepare a tea.

"Sit, Mithrandir, you must he hungry and thirsty."

Gandalf's eyebrow would have vanished in his hairline, had the eyebrow not been so bushy. He watched in stunned silence as one of the kitchen staff handed him a bowl of warm soup, meeting his eyes only briefly, before the servant left him alone with Elrond.

The Lord of Imladris stood with his back to him, crushing some leaves and adding hot water into the cup for the tea. With a frown so deep that it rivalled the Crack in Mount Doom, the Istar sat down at the wooden table that was normally only used by the servants, warming his hands on the bowl of soup.

For a few moments he watched how Elrond fiddled with the cup, silent and stiff. When the elf sprinkled some tiny amount of salt into the tea instead of dried and crumbled honey, Gandalf knew that something was amiss. More amiss than he had felt already.

With a sad note in his voice, he asked softly, "So they are back already."

Elrond stiffened imperceptibly, and then seemed to deflate. His shoulders dropped, his hands stilled and he let his head hang forward for a second. Then, he nodded, "Aye, but they returned without hope."

Fear shot through Gandalf's heart at these words, "Estel, is he…"

"No, no. He lives and is resting in his room as we speak." Elrond assured him. Swallowing thickly, he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter tightly before he asked, no, pleaded, "Tell me you have good news, my friend. That you have found what you were looking for."

And then Gandalf understood. Elrond had not found a solution to the problem, had probably been forced to stand by helplessly while Aragorn and the twins suffered. He had built his hopes on Gandalf, and if he had looked into his eyes and seen a negative answer in them…it would have crushed him.

Gandalf stood up and walked slowly over to his friend. He laid a gnarled hand on Elrond's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, "I have found the one who brewed the poison. And I have, maybe, found an antidote."

"Oh, rim hennaid" Elrond exclaimed and bowed his head even further. A long sigh left his lips, and to Gandalf it was clear that his news meant the world to the elven Lord.

Tightening his hold on Elrond's shoulder, he steered him gently over to the table, "Come, my friend, sit with me and tell me what has happened while I was gone."

Elrond wiped a hand across his forehead, seemingly undisturbed that it was _not_ normal behaviour for him to let his feelings show that clearly, and then moved over to the table. Halfway there, he suddenly lifted his head and tried to turn around. "Oh, I forgot your tea." He was about to reach out and grab it, but Gandalf's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I think I will pass, Elrond."

Elrond gave him a puzzled look, glanced at the tea, frowned and then spied the open box of salt sitting close to the cup. Flinching slightly, he nodded. "Aye, that might be better."

A low chuckle was Gandalf's only answer and then they sat at the table to talk.

--oOo--

"Have you heard Dan? Mithrandir has arrived! Mithrandir!" Elrohir almost jumped up and down in his excitement. With a flourish he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him to his feet from where he sat on the side of Legolas's bed.

"Mithrandir? Are you certain?" Elladan asked while he ignored his brother's strong hold on his arm.

"Aye! He arrived half an hour ago and is in the kitchen with ada! Come, Dan, come now. Legolas, you too!"

And with that, the younger twin dragged his brother with him to the door, threw it open and hurried down the corridor.. Legolas swallowed thickly, stood up from the bed and moved to the door.

His heart beat against his ribcage and his breathing quickened. So this was it, he thought detachedly. Either Mithrandir had the solution, or everything would be over. He took a deep breath and then turned in the opposite direction the twins had taken. Aragorn needed to know that Gandalf had arrived.

--oOo--

To the twins' surprise, they had met Elrond and Mithrandir halfway to the kitchens, their faces a mixture of hope and worry. Neither of the two had enlightened them, and so it was that they were as clueless as Aragorn, Legolas, Glorfindel and Erestor, who waited with them in the library.

Legolas, who had helped Aragorn to the library and now sat next to him on one of the soft sofas, scratched the back of his nose thoughtfully. He did not like this at all. From the confused looks on the faces of the twins, Glorfindel's brooding stare and Erestor's stiff form, he could tell that whatever they had been told, it had not been the happy news, they had been waiting for.

He shifted his injured shoulder slightly, ignoring the dull pain that greeted the movement, and leaned over to Aragorn. He whispered into the man's ear, not wanting to disturb the others' musings, "What do you make of this, Estel?"

Aragorn tilted his head to the side and took a deep breath. "Either Mithrandir has no news at all, or they are not as Ada has hoped. But they cannot be that bad either, otherwise Ada would not have asked us to come here, but simply told us in our rooms."

Nodding, Legolas glanced sideways at his friend. Aragorn looked pale and tired, but he seemed to be more relaxed than he had been in days. They had not talked about what had happened that night in the room that held the shards of Narsil, but Legolas felt that it had helped Aragorn to come to some understanding with his situation and his own feelings.

Truth be told, Legolas was a bit scared at the dull look in his friend's eyes and the fact that the man had barely eaten these last two days. He seemed to have found a calm acceptance of his fate that he showed on the outside, but every time Aragorn deemed himself alone and unobserved, Legolas could see the deep sadness and uncertainties in his eyes and face.

To let go on his strong hold on his emotions that night had helped, but now Aragorn seemed to draw even more into himself, so as if his one time opening had been enough for him to deal with the situation. With another brief glance at his friend, Legolas decided that it was maybe enough for Aragorn, but definitely not enough for him.

Just when Legolas was to speak to Aragorn once more, the door to the library opened and Elrond preceded Gandalf into the room. Both looked tired; Elrond from the constant worrying and Gandalf obviously from his tireless ride to Imladris. The wizard's beard was unkempt, his clothing crinkled. He walked over to one of the chairs that stood near the fire and, without asking permission, brought out his pipe, filled it and puffed away.

Elrond shot him a look and took a breath as if to say something, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head briefly. He let his eyes roam across the room, taking in the expectant faces.

"I see we are all here," he paused, then continued, "As you can see, our hopes have been answered and Mithrandir has arrived safe and sound."

Elrond gestured at the wizard, who bowed his head in acknowledgement. By now his head was partly hidden by a blue cloud of smoke. Considering the fact that Gandalf had only just lit his pipe and started smoking, it seemed already a bit foggy in the whole room.

Aragorn felt Legolas shift on the couch in a not too obvious attempt to move away from the smoke. Of course, he would not complain, but Aragorn knew that Legolas, and his whole family and maybe all elves in the whole of Arda for that matter, despised the stench of pipe weed. Well, make that hate from the bottom of their hearts.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Aragorn's mouth when he saw his brothers' scrunched up faces, and the look of thinly veiled disgust they threw the pipe. Although he smoked rarely, Aragorn liked the smell of good pipe weed, and if he was not mistaken, the one Gandalf was smoking right now was finest Longbottom Leaf from the Shire. He breathed in as deeply as his broken ribs allowed and almost immediately felt some of his tension leave him.

Aragorn leaned back on the couch, listening to his father tell them about Gandalf's journey to Tharbad. When his eyes found the wizard's, Gandalf blew out a perfect smoke ring, winked at him and lifted his pipe in a greeting gesture. And in that moment, Aragorn could not help the big grin that crossed his face. Trust the wizard to lift his mood in the most tense of situations.

Or, was it tense? With an inward start, Aragorn realized that he had been so focused on Gandalf that he had missed part of what his father had told them. He quickly glanced at his brothers and Legolas, but they looked as they had before, a mixture of sad, angst and expectant.

Legolas was so focused on his father's words that he had leaned forwards on the sofa despite the blue smoke from the pipe, although he seemed to swallow convulsively to suppress his coughing. Aragorn smiled briefly, then turned to his father.

"…Luckily the old potion maker told Mithrandir the basis for the antidote, and I hold the hope that together, Mithrandir and I will be able to brew some counter poison."

Aragorn blinked. Once, twice. Then he turned his head and looked around the room. Had his father not just said that there was a possibility that he would not die? That he could save his brothers and him? Why was no one shouting in joy? Or smiling, for that matter?

The hot knot of fear and tension that had taken up permanent residence in Aragorn's stomach and that had eased a bit at the mention of an antidote, suddenly knotted only tighter. His father's words reached his ears, and when he saw his face, he knew why none of the others were celebrating right away. Elrond looked grim.

"The bad news is that the basis for the antidote is lilies of the valley." Elrond paused to let his words sink in.

The twins shared a despairing look, Erestor sighed deeply, Legolas cursed so softly under his breath that not even Aragorn, who sat next to him could hear the words, and Mithrandir puffed out such a thick cloud of smoke that it actually hid his head. But what surprised Aragorn the most was the reaction of Glorfindel. The golden haired warrior looked grim and ready to kill another Balrog. Never before had Aragorn seen him so…determined.

Glorfindel took a step into the room, and his voice was strong when he spoke, "If you need lilies of the valley, we will find some."

For a moment, silence reigned, but then Elrond nodded. "I hoped you would say that. I know I have no stock of lilies in the house, for I do not use them. They are poisonous under normal circumstances and I have to confess, I never had the idea to use their poison to fight a poison." Elrond sighed, but then he continued like the leader he was.

"Glorfindel, I want you to send out your warriors. Comb through the whole valley, knock on every door, look in every shed and turn around stick and stone. We have to find some lilies, whether they be fresh or dried or used for pillow casing. I do not care."

A grim looking Glorfindel bowed low. "Aye, my Lord. I will begin immediately. May I suggest to ask the rangers to help us? They could go to some of the nearest villages and ask around."

Elrond seemed to consider that, then looked at Aragorn. "Estel?"

Tilting his head to the side, Aragorn thought about it for a moment. It was dangerous to send the rangers out in this cold weather, with hungry wolves around, but on the other hand, they _were_ rangers. And, he thought wryly, Halbarad would never forgive him if he forbade him to help.

"Of course, I will go and speak with them."

A quick look at his son told Elrond that there would be no way around that request, and so Elrond nodded. "Good. In the meanwhile, Mithrandir and I will consult my books for anything new, and we will prepare all we will need when we find the plants."

Glorfindel left quietly while Elrond still spoke. To search the valley would take time.

"Elladan, Elrohir, I want you two to stay in the house. And no, you are not going to help the searchers. I want you close at hand in case the search is successful fast." It seemed as if the twins wanted to protest, but then they agreed.

Erestor left the library as well, muttering something about making sure that the ranges would be well equipped on their trip, and then it was only the twins, Legolas, Aragorn, Elrond and Mithrandir in the room.

When the silence stretched uncomfortably, Elladan piped up, "So, that's it? We find the plants, make the antidote and…live?"

"Aye, my son. That is the plan."

"Mhhm," was all Elladan answered, and Aragorn could tell that although his brothers looked less troubled now that they knew that there was a chance to survive, they did not quite believe it.

It was Elrohir who brought the point home, "So, lilies? Great. Just in case none of you has noticed, it is winter. Where are we supposed to find lilies in winter?"

"We will find some."

For a fleeting moment Aragorn thought his father might add 'or die trying', but Elrond did not, which was good, because it would have been too close to the truth. When none of his family or friends spoke, Aragorn got to his feet slowly, using the armrest of the sofa as support.

He took up his crutches and hobbled to the door, "I should speak with the rangers, then. They should leave as soon as they can and ere the weather turns worse. If it snows anymore the paths will be difficult to pass."

Before either of the others could say anything, he opened the door, slipped out ungracefully and made his way down the silent hallway. While he hobbled towards the rooms the rangers used, he felt a cold chill settle in his limbs. Was this not the chance to life he had waited for? Had his father not just told him that there was a chance, however small to be saved?

Aragorn knew he should feel elated, happy, joyful, maybe even a bit exhilarated. But, he did not. No, he felt as he had done before. He felt…indifferent on the outside and scared on the inside. Time and time again his brothers and Legolas had told him that Mithrandir was still out there, searching for something to help them, that there was still hope as long as Mithrandir was still out there.

And now, now the wizard was sitting in the library, smoking his pipe, and they were no step closer to survive this nightmare then before. Aye, they knew there was a way to be saved, but that only made things worse. To know that he could be saved but at the same time could not, just because Dagnir had chosen to act in winter and not spring or even summer.

Aragorn rounded a corner and slowly descended a staircase, clutching the wooden banister with one and his crutches in the other hand. His shoulder protested the weight it had to bear, but Aragorn ignored it. His burned hand was harder to ignore, and once at the bottom of the steps he leaned against the wall and massaged his hand lightly until the worst of the pain had passed.

The rooms the rangers had been given were on the ground level of the Last Homely House, and when Aragorn turned into the corridor the rooms were situated in, he hesitated. Why had he asked to speak with them? He probably did not even know half of the men. Although he was the Chieftain, he had not yet met all the rangers, let alone Dunedain, and he had not asked Halbarad who had accompanied him.

Suddenly Aragorn did not know if it was such a good idea to present himself to his men such as he was. Pale, battered, injured, poisoned…weak. But then, the sarcastic streak he had developed these last few days spoke up and told him that more likely than not it would be the first and last time he saw the men, and therefore it did not matter.

Grabbing his crutches tighter, Aragorn walked up to one of the doors and knocked. There was no answer, so he moved to the second door. When no one opened him, he frowned. Where were they? Before he could think of an answer, he heard faint voices down the hallway. One of the doors stood open a crack and when he drew closer, he could make out Halbarad's voice.

"Aye, that was Gandalf you saw. And no, I do not know what news he brought."

Another, deeper voice answered him. "Well, then go up and speak with the Chieftain. You know him better than any of us."

"But I cannot simply go up there and interrupt the Lord of Imladris, his counsellors and an Istar!" Halbarad sounded agitated, but Aragorn could tell that he ached to do just that.

"Why not?" one of the other men asked.

Pushing the door open soundlessly, Aragorn leaned against the doorframe. "Yes, Halbarad, why not?"

Halbarad swirled around startled and gaped at Aragorn for a second before he found his voice and blurted out, "Aragorn! Forgive me, I did not hear you."

Lifting an eyebrow, Aragorn glanced at the wooden crutches, then back at Halbarad, "Good I am no orc then."

The deep red that crept up Halbarad's face was enough to make the other rangers smirk, but all of them were watching Aragorn intently. Their eyes travelled over his heavily bandaged knee, the crutches, the bandaged hand and the still colourful bruises on his face. There was a bit of awe in the faces of the men who had not met him before, and sympathy and worry in those Aragorn knew a bit better.

Deeming that the rangers had scrutinized him long enough, Aragorn repeated his question to Halbarad in an attempt to lift the mood of the men before he told them the…bad…good news.

"So, Halbarad, why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why can you not simply go up there and interrupt the Lord of Imladris, his counsellors and an Istar?"

Halbarad turned a shade paler and did not answer right away. Crossing his arms before his chest, he said, "Well, that would be rude, would it not?"

"Rude? Mhhm. I'd call it brave, but that might be a matter of perspective." With that Aragorn took up his crutches once more and hobbled into the room. Almost immediately Halbarad was by his side and helped him to sit down in an overstuffed chair that rested close to the hearth.

"Thank you, Halbarad."

"You're welcome," Halbarad said and sat down on the armrest of a chair facing Aragorn. "So, what news brings Gandalf, Aragorn?" It sounded as if Halbarad had been choking on the question and had needed to ask it before he suffocated.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn gazed around the tense faces of the rangers. He had no doubt that they all knew what had happened to him and his brothers in the wilds, and what was at stake. So, without preamble, he began.

"Mithrandir has found the man who created the poison, but the man committed suicide immediately afterwards, out of fear of being hunted down by Dagnir." Here he paused, not sure whether the rangers could connect Dagnir's name to the broken body they had buried. When they nodded, he continued.

"Before he died, he told Mithrandir of the poison, what it did, what it consisted of and what the basis for the antidote is."

"So, there is one?" Halbarad blurted out.

"Aye, Elrond and Mithrandir think they could brew it once they have the right ingredients. And that is where the problem is. The basis of the antidote are lilies of the valley, which grow only in spring. Right now, Lord Glorfindel and his warriors begin to search the whole valley for any plants that might have been kept, whether dried, pressed, frozen in the snow or whatever. And this is where we need your help."

Pausing, Aragorn could tell from the grim faces surrounding him that the rangers deemed the news bad, not good, but he continued nevertheless.

"Lord Glorfindel and his warriors cannot search the valley and the surrounding human settlements at the same time. And furthermore, although the elves of Imladris are respected in most settlements close to the borders, the villagers will perhaps be more open to other humans than to elves."

An old, grey haired ranger scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. Aragorn vaguely remembered the ranger as being an old friend of his human father, but so far his own duties had not allowed him to get to know him better.

"So, you are asking us to go out into the deep snow, leave the protection of the valley, risk the dangers of the wilds and angry villagers, and all for the very slim possibility that some old crone has kept some dried lilies, Captain?"

"Aye, that is what I ask of you."

The ranger tilted his head and then said gruffly, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let us get out there and find that plant." And with that, he got to his feet and grabbed his cloak. While he fastened it around his broad shoulders, he gave Aragorn a stern look. "And don't you die on us, my Lord, as long as we are away."

"I will try not to." Aragorn smiled at the man, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in days.

The other rangers bowed to him before they left to ready their horses and soon only Aragorn and Halbarad were in the room. An awkward silence settled above the two.

"Aragorn…" Halbarad began, but then he shook his head and simply embraced his friend tightly. "Don't you go without me, Aragorn. We will find lilies, I promise."

Patting Halbarad's back with his good hand, Aragorn pulled away and looked his friend into the eyes, "Do not promise what you cannot control to keep."

Eyes almost of the same shade as Aragorn's locked onto his. "Aragorn, promise me you won't let go as long as there is hope."

"Hal, I cannot promise what I cannot control to…"

"No!" With an agitated gesture of his hand Halbarad interrupted him. His voice was angry and determined when he continued, "Promise me."

"Halbarad…"

"NO. Promise!"

For long moments Aragorn gazed at his friend who stood in front of him. He could tell that Halbarad meant what he said and that he would not leave the valley before Aragorn had promised him to keep fighting. Now that his rescue was so close, Halbarad had found new fodder for his small spark of hope, and he would not let go of it. The testament, if nothing else, had shown Halbarad that Aragorn had accepted the possibility of death, and he was unwilling to leave without reassurance.

"I promise. And you know that I do not make idle promises and never promise something I intend not to keep," Aragorn said softly. And to his own surprise, he meant what he said.

"Good." With a formal bow to Aragorn, Halbarad left the room. He did not look back, and that was maybe for the best. Aragorn knew that, had he looked back, Halbarad would not have left at all, so strong was his desire to stay at his friend's and Chieftain's side.

With a tiny pang of regret, Aragorn confessed to himself that he felt a bit better now his friend would leave the valley. Because that meant that he would be not present should it come to the worst.

Aragorn leaned back in his chair and gazed into the fire for a moment. The elves would search the valley, the rangers would search the human villages that were situated near the borders of the valley, his father and Mithrandir would prepare the things they needed to brew the antidote, his brothers would most likely stare out into the valley, eager to be first to know when something had been found, and Legolas would sooner or later go looking for him. And he?

There was nothing he could do at the moment. Nothing at all. With a weary sigh, Aragorn got to his feet, swaying slightly when his knee would not move as he wanted it to. Leaning on his crutches, he hobbled out into the hallway. He would seek out Legolas before his friend came looking for him, and with a bit of luck, Legolas would be able to take his mind off the possibility that none of the searchers would find anything.

True to his thoughts, he met Legolas at the bottom of the same stairs that he had descended only a few minutes earlier. With a small smile, he greeted his friend and together they made their way over to the Hall of Fire. And when he had settled down in one of the soft chairs, with a warm fire whispering nearby and Legolas began to sing a song of Greenwood the Great, he felt almost at peace.

Aye, he felt relatively good for the time being. Valar, time being short.

--oOo--

They had searched. The Valar knew they had searched every house, shed and barn. Had knocked on every single door, window and wall to talk to the inhabitants. Once the purpose of their search had spread in the valley, many elves had joined the search parties, so that they would be able to complete the search more quickly and thoroughly.

Cellars had been searched from top to bottom. Attics had been turned upside down, boxes broken open, books shaken in the hope to find some pressed plants. Herb gardens had been freed of snow in the vain attempt to find something; kitchens had been emptied of herbal satchels and dried plants. None of the elves had complained, instead they had all started to search their houses as well.

Never before in times of peace had the valley seen so much activity at night. No house stayed dark, but they were all alight with the flicker of candles and fires. The red glow of torches bopping up and down the streets chased away the night, and light bulbs had been lit everywhere, rivalling the silver spark of the stars.

But, it had been in vain. When the night turned to day and the cocks greeted the rising sun, defeated troops of warriors returned to the Last Homely House, empty handed. Elrond spoke with each group, reassuring them that they had done the best they could, bidding them to go refresh and rest. With each report he heard, Elrond's expression became grimmer, the lines in his face deeper and his eyes duller.

When the last of the elven search parties returned with sad faces, Elrond bid them to go rest, feeling himself older than ever before. He knew the rangers were still out there, but he doubted that they would find anything. And, it would be days before they would return.

With a weary sigh, Elrond tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. He felt tired, of body as well as of mind, for he had not slept during the night, or much the last nights since his sons and Legolas had returned. Still, there were some things to do before he would rest.

He straightened his shoulders and glanced up at the railing of the wide staircase that led down into the entrance hall. There, on the top steps, sat Elladan and Elrohir, having listened to each and every report. They knew. When Elladan caught Elrond's eye, the older twin nodded understandingly. Elrohir tried to smile but failed miserably.

With a small, sad smile of his own, Elrond asked them with his eyes whether they needed him right now, but both twins shook their head simultaneously. Elrohir leaned towards his brother and rested his head at his shoulder, while Elladan wrapped an arm around Elrohir's shoulder in support.

Although he was thousands of years old, this simple gesture of brotherhood and love brought tears to Elrond's eyes. He swallowed thickly and averted his gaze. Now was not the time to break down, not yet. When he was alone in his room, with no one else watching, he would give in to the pain he felt in his heart, but not yet.

And with that decision made, Elrond turned and made his way over to the closed door of the Hall of Fire. He hesitated only a second before he entered. Aragorn had to know what the warriors had found, or rather, not found.

The great chamber was darker than usual, for not all of the hearths had been kept burning during the night and some of the burned down candles had not been replaced by new ones. In the dim light, Elrond saw Legolas stand at one of the windows, his face directed at the rising sun.

Aragorn was lying on one of the comfortable couches, a blanket covering him and his head pillowed on the armrest. He was obviously asleep, his breathing deep and his chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm.

Mesmerized by the peaceful face of his son, Elrond slowly made his way over to Aragorn and sat down on the edge of the sofa. He stroked the cheek gently and tucked a wayward strand of hair away from the relaxed face. Aragorn looked so young, so careless, almost free of worry and burdens when he slept.

The tears that he had fought to control only a moment ago threatened to spill again, and Elrond took a deep breath. He knew, as soon as he woke his son, he would have to tell him that the warriors had found nothing, and the relaxed face would crease and worry would replace the peace. But what would be the worst, would be the mask of acceptance and indifference that would slip over Aragorn's face, as it had done the last few days.

Oh yes, Elrond knew his son well enough to know that Aragorn tried to appear strong and brave. That he tried his hardest to not hurt his family. But Elrond had been able to see right through the man's barriers. Every father could do that.

Aragorn shifted in his sleep, and Elrond gently pulled the blanket up higher. Maybe he would let Aragorn sleep a moment longer. There was no need to wake him right now only to tell him that they had found nothing. And this way, Elrond could steal some more minutes with his youngest son, watching the sleeping face that was so free of worry and pain.

And so it was that Elrond did not even notice when Legolas slipped out of the room noiselessly, closing the door behind him and leaving father and son alone.

As soon as Legolas had left the room, he sought out the twins and quickly found them sitting on the stairs, talking softly. For a moment he did not know whether to approach or leave them alone, but then Elladan saw him and gestured for him to join them.

"Has Ada told him?"

"No, Estel is sleeping and your father did not wake him yet. I…I deemed it better to leave them alone for a while." Legolas sat down a few steps below the twins, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Dan, Ro, the warriors found nothing, did they?"

"No, they found nothing," Elrohir said, and his voice was tight.

"The rangers are out there searching. Perhaps they will find some plants." Even to his own ears, his words sounded hollow. Still, Legolas had the unshakable feeling that as long as they kept hoping, there still _was_ hope.

Without taking his head from his brother's shoulder, Elrohir said softly, "The next four days are almost up, Legolas. Tomorrow, to be precise. The rangers will never be back in time."

Ai, Legolas had not forgotten about the four-day limit, but he had fought so hard to ignore it. Now, having heard it spoken out loud, it sounded so…evil.

"I know, Ro. But you have survived the other attacks and surely this one will not be different."

It was Elladan who answered him, "Mithrandir told us that none of the other victims lived longer than five weeks."

Legolas needed not have been tutored in the art of counting to know that it had nearly been five weeks now that the poison had been taken. Valar, that made it so much more difficult to hold on to the hope he kept in his heart. Not enough that they can't find the fragging plant now they learn that their time is nearly up. -->.

"Then you will be the first."

"Legolas…" Elrohir's voice sounded tired and sad. "Perhaps…maybe it is time to accept that there is nothing we can do."

Anger flared in Legolas. With fiery eyes he turned and stared at the twins. Surely he had heard wrong. "What? How can you say that?"

Smiling softly, Elrohir sighed deeply, "Legolas, as long as there was hope, Dan and I would do all we could to think positive. But now, there simply is no hope left for us. Dan and I, we…we want to enjoy our last days before we leave. And, we hoped you would accept that wish, and…and help us."

Speechless, Legolas stared at the twins. They could not mean that! That was…that was…unbelievable.

"But, the rangers…"

"Legolas, the rangers cannot help us. Please, we know that Estel has already accepted the possibility of his death. Think about it this way, mellon nin. Hope was all that has been keeping us going these last weeks. And if we keep that hope alive, the inevitable end will be the more crushing. We stalk around this house with sombre faces, because we try so hard to avoid the unavoidable.

"None of us was truly willing to look the others in the eyes out of fear to see ones own hopelessness reflected in them. But if we let go of the vain hope, we will be able to live our last days here not in sorrow, but in remembrance of the good times.

"Legolas, please. I…we want to enjoy our last days with Estel. When the day comes and Dan and I go, we will enter the Halls of Mandos together, but Estel, he will…we will not see him again. Ever. I want to remember him happy and relatively at peace. And for that to be possible, you have to help us, Legolas."

It was too much. The acceptance in the eyes of the twins, the sad smiles, everything. With a movement that would have startled the twins had they not anticipated this reaction, Legolas surged to his feet.

"No! I will not do that."

"Legolas…."

"NO!" And with that, Legolas raced down the stairs and out the double doors of the Last Homely House before anyone could stop him.

Elladan sighed deeply. "Do you think he will change his opinion?"

"Aye. As soon as he accepts that it is only his stubbornness that hinders him from seeing the truth. And, he will not miss the chance to be with Estel…till the end."

Swallowing thickly, Elladan looked down at his brother. "Should we join Ada and Estel?"

"No, give them a moment longer. And, I do not want to move just yet. Let us stay for a few more minutes," Elrohir said softly, his eyes roaming the entrance hall, the colourful wall hangings that lined the walls, the high windows that let the sun enter and the intricately formed vases that decorated the shelves and tables along the wall.

No, he did not want to go yet, but take this view in so that he would be able to remember it for all eternity.

--oOo--

"So they found nothing, Ada?" Aragorn asked with hooded eyes, still lying supine on the couch. He had woken to his father's gentle touch, and he could tell from the look in his eyes that the search had been unsuccessful.

"Ah, my Estel. I am so sorry. I wish….I wish I could tell you differently, but…I cannot. No, they found nothing."

For a moment, Aragorn felt a rush of pain in his chest, but it faded almost as quickly as it had come. He closed his eyes sadly, but when he opened them again, they were void of the fear and desperation he felt.

"Do not worry Ada, you did what you could. As did we all."

The tears that Elrond had fought for so long suddenly spilled, and he enveloped Aragorn in a tight hug. "Oh Estel, I do not want to lose you, or your brothers."

Feeling his own tears prick at his eyes, Aragorn tightened the hug, "I will tell Elros that you love him dearly."

Elrond shuddered and sobbed into Aragorn's hair, and for a long time father and son held each other, unwilling to let go, to let the doom of man shatter the precious bond that they had created over the years.

--oOo--

The sinking sun reflected on the white snow that covered the trees and bushes surrounding the Last Homely House, painting the gardens in a glowing red and orange. The sky was already dark blue above the house, but in the distance it was still of a vibrant blue, where the sun had not yet hid her face.

In the family dining room, alight with candles and a warm fire that burned in the hearth, Elrond and his children, as well as Glorfindel, Erestor and Mithrandir ate their supper, and despite their best efforts to find Legolas, they had not been able to make out the Prince's whereabouts.

Aragorn was dismayed that his friend would seek solace instead of his company, but after speaking with the twins about what had happened, he understood Legolas's absence. Perhaps, had Aragorn spoken with Legolas about that matter, the outcome would have been different, but what was done was done.

"Estel, would you pass me the potatoes, please?" Elladan asked, and Aragorn obediently passed the bowl of roasted potatoes down the table towards his brothers.

Although the brothers had agreed to live the rest of their days not in brooding sorrow but try to lighten the mood, it would not work. They had tried to engage their father and Glorfindel in conversation about the twins' antics when they had been elflings, had teased Erestor about his paper-mania and had even quarrelled with each other. To no avail.

The mood at the table was subdued, if not morose. Being not very hungry, well, not hungry at all, Aragorn instead took up his cup of herbal tea and let his eyes roam around the table. Erestor was shoving his food from the right side of his plate to the left, then back again, while his father ate his way methodically from top to bottom. Perhaps to set an example, Aragorn mused.

Glrofindel stared at his food as if it was an enemy to kill, and with an inaudible sigh Aragorn glanced at his brothers, who shrugged their shoulders helplessly.

"Hrm, hrm." Aragorn nearly jumped at the sound of Mithrandir clearing his throat and quickly looked at the Maiar, who sat directly across from him.

"Estel, have I ever told you the story of the Hobbit lad I know and the dwarves that accompanied him?"

Speechless for a moment, Aragorn blinked in surprise, until he saw the twinkle in the wizard's eye. With a smile of his own, Aragorn answered, "Well, yes, but I would love to hear it again. After all, I was too small then to truly remember how the dwarves emptied the wine cellar and trampled across the vegetable garden of Erestor."

So Mithrandir leaned back in his chair, pulled out his pipe, lit it and began to tell the tale of the Hobbit who had come to Imladris in the company of dwarves. And while he did so, Mithrandir exaggerated the actions of the elves so much, that soon the twins were laughing helplessly, and after a while Glorfindel could no longer contain his indignation.

"I did _not_ threaten to behead the dwarves should they ever touch the wine again."

"No, indeed," Erestor commented dryly. "You threatened to feed them to a Balrog…as starters."

This made the twins laugh even harder, and when Aragorn saw his father roll his eyes at another of Mithrandir's flourished explanations of how a certain elf Lord had _bade_ the dwarves to Imladris again when their time allowed it, he felt something akin to peace steal over his senses.

A few moments later he caught Mithrandir's eye and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Smiling, Mithrandir puffed on his pipe as if he had done nothing worth mentioning, while Glorfindel and Erestor debated with the twins, which of the dwarves had been the most hairy.

Aragorn soon joined the argument, siding with his brothers, of course. Seeing his sons and friends engaged in battle, Elrond leaned sideways in his high backed chair and said softly out of the corner of his mouth.

"Old meddling fool."

"Huh? Me?"

Elrond chuckled softly, but Aragorn heard it and turned towards him, eyes bright and lively. For a moment Elrond was taken aback by the life he still saw in those expressive grey orbs, and he smiled lovingly at his son. Aragorn nodded minutely and then turned back to the battle of words.

"Mithrandir?"

"Aye, my Lord Elrond?" Gandalf said between two puffs on his pipe.

"Thank you, my friend."

They talked long and happily, until suddenly the door to the dining room was thrown open. It crashed into the wall, making them all jump. Glorfindel automatically reached for his sword although he never carried it inside the house, and Erestor stood to protect his Lords.

But…in the door stood Legolas, hair dishevelled, eyes gleaming and cheeks red. For a moment he said nothing, but then he took tow large steps into the room.

"My Lord Elrond, they found it! Some elder elleth found some dried lilies of the valley!"

_To be continued…

* * *

_

_So, what do you think? As my wonderful beta said, it is not only 'doom and gloom'. –g-_

_**BUT**, this is **ME**!Anyone who knows me knows that I am evil. Very evil. Mhuwahahahahahah._

_You think this is the 'nice happy ending'? The 'happily ever after' scene? The 'Thank the Valar this is the solution to their problems' ending? Yes? Then you do **not** know me. –evil grin-_

_Stay tuned. :o)_


	37. 36 Bittersweet Symphony

**Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translations:_

Geheno nin, ionnath nin: Forgive me, my sons

Hir nin: my Lord

Yen: The long year of the Eldar in Middle-earth, equal to 144 solar years

_"It's my life  
It's now or never  
I ain't gonna live forever  
I just want to live while I'm alive."  
(Bon Jovi - It's my life)_

Chapter 36: Bittersweet Symphony

Cheeks red in anticipation, Legolas panted, "I was strolling around under the trees when I saw her making her way over to the house. She told me she found the plants in her house and had completely forgotten about them until now. Come now, she waits in the hall!"

The room was completely silent while its occupants stared wide-eyed at Legolas. As if to confirm his words, Legolas made his way quickly over to Lord Elrond, and –very un-Legolas-like, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Had Elrond not been so shocked, he would have reminded Legolas that despite the close relationship that they had, this was no behaviour for the representative of the Royal House of Oropher.

Instead, he let Legolas not only pull him to his feet but out of the door as well, down the corridor and to the front door. Only then did he find his voice and with a "Legolas, what…" he disentangled himself from the agitated Prince.

Behind them, the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor, Gandalf and Aragorn sat in dumbstruck silence for another moment, and then all Mordor broke loose. Glorfindel jumped to his feet and raced after Prince and Lord, Erestor began to mutter under his breath before he, too, got to his feet and quickly followed Glorfindel. On the other side of the table, the twins stared at each other before they sprang to their feet, knocking over their chairs in the process and rushed out the door.

Aragorn looked at the retrieving backs of his family and friends with wide eyes. Could this truly be? Could there still be hope, although they had already given up? And if they had found some plants, then…where and how? Had the search troops not checked the whole the valley? Legolas had said an elder elleth had found the plants…

Although he did not want it, a small, tiny, almost dead spark of hope flared to new life in his breast. Legolas would not joke about such a serious matter. If he said they had found lilies, then they had. He trusted Legolas…with his very life. Literally.

The emotional storm made Aragorn feel light-headed for a moment, and he did not yet trust himself to stand up. So, he sat for a moment longer, staring at the open door, battling with himself whether to kindle the spark of hope to new life or let it die, so as to soften his fall should Legolas have been wrong.

"I think, my dear Aragorn, that we should follow them."

Aragorn jumped in his chair. Gandalf! He had completely forgotten that the wizard was still there. Swallowing, Aragorn nodded and then grabbed his crutches and slowly began to pull himself to his feet.

The long sitting at the table had done his knee no good, and so he was not surprised when it would not hold his weight, but throbbed with a red hot pain that shot up and down his leg. To mask his pain, he bit down on his lower lip, but he should not have bothered to hide it.

With two great steps the Maiar was at his side, a steadying hand on his back. "Easy lad, you would not want to ruin the moment of success by falling flat on your face," he said good-naturedly.

"No, of course not. That would be very…ungraceful." Aragorn offered lightly, before he slowly limped to the door and out into the hallway.

As it seemed, Legolas's discovery had not gone unnoticed; servants swarmed the corridor, their faces eager and their chores of the evening forgotten. On their way to the entrance hall, Aragorn saw some of the warriors that had helped in the search, and he even spotted the healers of the Last Homely House. All of the elves made way for him and Gandalf when they neared, and so it was only a few minutes after the twins that Aragorn reached the hall.

On the staircase, in the doorway, on the front steps, in the corridor…it seemed that half of Imladris had found their way to the front door of the house. Aragorn could not help but feel his heart beat a little faster. He had known that his family was well loved by most, but that so many would leave their homes only to come here to hear with their own ears whether a cure had been found or not…the thought was breathtaking.

Feeling the steadying hand of Gandalf in the small of his back, Aragorn slowly approached the thickest cluster of elves, having easily spotted the golden head of Glorfindel stick out of the mass of dark haired elves as well as the slightly lighter hair of Legolas. The twins, Erestor, Legolas and Glorfindel stood around Elrond and an elder elleth.

The elleth, one of the elves who worked as tailors at the other end of the valley, looked positively taken aback by so much attention, but she stood tall and strong before her Lord. Elrond, on the other hand, seemed to be transfixed on something he held in his hands, and when Aragorn drew nearer and entered the cluster of elves, he saw that it was a bundle of cloth.

"I only now remembered, my Lord. I cut the plant to use it as a sample for a new design. I am sorry, hir nin, I only now remembered!" The elder elleth said, bowing deeply.

But Elrond hardly noticed her unnecessary apologies, . With slow motions he opened the bundle and then gazed at what was inside.

After a moment, he lifted his head and his eyes sparkled with relief. "Thank you. Thank you." And then the unthinkable happened: Elrond, Lord of Imladris and renowned warrior and herald of the late High King Gil-Galad, embraced the elleth tightly, nearly lifting her off her feet. The elleth gave a surprised shriek, and when Elrond released her and took a step back, she placed her hand over her wildly beating heart.

"If there is anything that I can do for you, name it, and it will be done," Elrond said, and all who heard him knew that he meant what he said. The elleth shook her head. "It was my pleasure, my Lord. Please, take the plants and help your sons."

Smiling and bowing low before the flustered elleth, Elrond thanked her once more and then turned to Gandalf. "Let's brew some antidote."

--oOo--

"Elrond…" Gandalf sighed wearily. For hours Elrond and he had worked on brewing the antidote, and now, with the setting sun casting the chambers into a red light, he had finally admitted to himself what he had feared from the beginning. From the very moment he had seen the plants contained in the bundle.

"Elrond, it is not enough of the draught for all of them. We cannot save them all."

Gandalf gazed at Elrond's back and saw his shoulders tense. He knew that the elf had come to the same conclusion some time ago, but hearing it spoken aloud was a different matter. With a resolute jerk of his head, Elrond said briskly, "We will thin it."

"My old friend, the potion cannot be thinned, for then it will not work as it should." Gandalf stepped closer to Elrond and laid a hand on his shoulder in support. "We cannot save them all. I am sorry."

A long sigh left Elrond's lips and he bowed his head in defeat. "Why, Mithrandir? Why give me the possibility to save them, only to then take it away again?"

"Oh, but you can still save them…only not all of them." And then Gandalf said the one thing that he knew would shatter Elrond's heart.

"Decide. Either you save the twins…or Estel. The twins are elves, they have strong healing powers and only little human blood; the potion will be strong enough to rescue them both. Or, you save your human son."

Finally turning around, Elrond gazed at the wizard with anguished eyes. "How shall I decide this? I cannot decide who shall live. I cannot!"

"Can you not…or do you not want to?"

"But,…No father should have to make this decision," Elrond said, turning back to stare out of the window. The sky was painted in lilac and rose, the sun sinking behind the cliff walls that surrounded the valley.

Squeezing Elrond's shoulder, Gandalf said softly, "Follow you heart, my friend. What does it tell you? Where does it bid you to go?"

Elrond stayed silent, but his eyes strayed to the cup of steaming tea in front of him. This cup held the salvation of either his elvish sons, or his human foster son.

Silently, Gandalf left the room and made his way towards Aragorn's room, where he knew he would not only find the ranger, but the twins and Legolas as well. He thought he knew how Elrond would decide, and he was very thankful that it was not his decision to make. He was prepared to decide the fate of Middle-earth one day, but he was not willing to decide between life or death of his own family.

--oOo--

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Legolas asked for the umpteenth time. The sunset had him mesmerized, and a small part of Aragorn had to agree with him. The setting sun reflected from the white snow, making the snow sparkle. The ice on the streams glittered like diamonds, and although the sun had not yet set completely, the pale moon was already visible, making the scene even more ethereal.

But, as beautiful as the sunset was, Aragorn could not take his mind off the fact that two storeys downstairs, right at this very moment, his father and Mithrandir were brewing the potion that could save his brothers and himself.

What if something went wrong? What if they did it wrong? Forgot an ingredient? What if the old potion maker had lied and this draught would kill them even more swiftly? The more Aragorn thought about the 'what if's', the more he wished that the door would open and his questions would be answered.

With a sigh he leaned back against the headboard of his huge bed, closing his eyes tiredly. The last days had exhausted him, and even after the agreement with his brothers that they would take their last days the way they came, he had not been able to sleep well. He had barely rested a few hours when his father had woken him this morning, and now, with all the excitement of the day, he felt his constitution falter.

Of course, Legolas had told them the story of how he had come across the elleth who had found the dried lilies in her house and who was already on her way to the Last Homely House more than once. More then ten times to be exact. Still, Aragorn could not suppress the feeling that the whole situation was surreal. As if something bad simply _had_ to happen. Because it always happened.

The fact that his knee hurt with a vengeance and that his burned hand throbbed painfully did not help his situation. Aragorn felt the mattress dip slightly, shortly before he heard the rustling of clothing.

"How are you feeling, Estel?" Legolas asked, and Aragorn needed not to open his eyes to know that his friend was studying his pale face intently.

"I am as well as can be expected, mellon nin. But, what about yourself, what about your shoulder?"

This time, Aragorn knew that Legolas was wincing slightly. For the better part of the afternoon, the elf had tried to hide his growing discomfort…unsuccessfully. Legolas had told the twins and Aragorn that he had spend the better part of the morning in the snow covered orchard, wandering under the trees. To his dismay, the cold had done his shoulder no good, and now the muscles were still tense and ached him.

Swallowing, Legolas waved his good hand in a fleeting gesture. "Ah, it is nothing, Estel. It heals well."

With a huff, Aragorn opened his eyes and shook his head. "You should know better, my friend." He leaned forwards, ever mindful of his own bandaged injuries, and grabbed Legolas's good arm gently. "Come here, let me help you." Aragorn scooted closer, his injured leg stretched out before him.

"No, really, that is not necessary." Pulling out of Aragorn's grip, Legolas tried to move away, but one glance at his friend's face told him that he was fighting a loosing battle. Aragorn had seen that he was in pain and would not rest ere he had at least tried to ease it.

"As you wish, Estel, you may take a look."

With a grin, Aragorn moved behind his friend, and with gentle fingers he reached around and opened the strings of Legolas's tunic. Confused, the elf began to protest, "Uhm, Estel, what are you doing?"

"Shh, hold still."

"But…"

"Oh, Valar, Legolas! No one besides the twins and I are here." The muttered 'prissy elf' made the twins, who reclined in two chairs near the hearth, chuckle, but they were wise enough to keep quiet when Legolas send them a deadly glare.

"It is not 'that', Estel. Only…"

"Aye?" Aragorn asked smugly, knowing exactly what his friend was going to say.

"Well, you know, with all the servants around…"

Elladan could not help but laugh loudly, but at least he tried to cover it with a cough. Which made the whole thing not even a _bit_ better, for elves _never_ coughed because of nothing. And seeing that they could not get ill…

Another deadly glare made Elladan burst out into giggles, and encouraged by the fact that Legolas was still sitting on the bed and had not yet tried to actually kill Elladan, Elrohir said wistfully, "Ah, yes. Imagine my brothers. The Prince of Mirkwood, the dream of the elleths of all three elven kingdoms, renowned archer, warrior of the yen, winner of the golden trophy of prissiness, wielder of the bow of accuracy…Ah, Valar, what would the fair maidens of this house say when they saw him thus unclothed! Ai!"

"They would scream, drool and faint," Elladan deadpanned.

"Ro! Dan! Stop that or…."

"Or what?" Elrohir asked curiously. "Are you going to knock us out with your prissiness trophy?"

"Ro?" Legolas growled, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. Ai Elbereth, it felt good to joke and banter. It was almost like it had been before this whole nightmare had started, and Legolas hoped with all his heart that the potion would work and restore the laughter and joy in his friends' hearts.

Behind Legolas, Aragorn smiled and shook his head at his brothers' antics. With his friend's injured shoulder bared, he swiftly unwound the bandages. The skin was still slightly bruised, but nothing like it had been. A bit green here, a tad of yellow there, but the blue and black bruises had mostly faded. But that did not mean that the muscles had healed completely, and the bone would take at least another two weeks to heal.

Scooting even closer, Aragorn sat up straight and began to massage the injured shoulder gently. Almost instantly Legolas hissed in pain, but he made no attempt to pull away. A warmth spread through his injury and with it the pain he had felt for hours diminished.

Sighing, Legolas bowed his head so as to give Aragorn more room to work. His grin widening, Aragorn did just that and moved from the shoulder to the tense muscles in Legolas neck, massaging away the stiffness.

So they sat for a few minutes, the room slowly darkening as the sun set behind the cliffs. Outside, the first glow orbs were lit, torches readied and fires poked. The valley glowed gently, and although it was nothing like it had been the night before, it was clear that many inhabitants of the valley would stay awake tonight, in case there were news from the Last Homely House.

Just when Aragorn took one of his hands away from Legolas's back to hide a huge yawn, there was a soft knock at the door. Almost instantly, the twins sat up straight, eyes flying to the door, while Legolas tensed, undoing all the work Aragorn had done on his back and injured shoulder.

The door opened slowly, and with a rustle of robes Gandalf entered Aragorn's room. To say that the wizard looked tired would have been the understatement of the yen. Gandalf's hair was dishevelled and even more untidy than it usually was; his robes were crinkled, his beard unkempt. But what was perhaps even more worrying, was the fact that he was not smiling. No, not even grinning.

Instead, his face looked uncannily serious. Almost as if he had come to tell them that something had gone wrong; that it had all been one great joke and that they had no antidote at all. But, that could not be the case, could it?

"Mithrandir?" Legolas asked tentatively, completely forgetting his half-clothed state.

"Ah, my young friend." The Istar sighed, before he shuffled his way over to the hearth and shushed Elladan out of the chair. Flopping down, Gandalf wiped a hand across his weary face. For a long moment he simply stared into the flickering flames of the fire, and when he finally spoke, his voice was so soft that Aragorn had to lean forwards to understand the words.

"I fear, my friends, that this is a war we cannot win. We might win one of the battles, aye, but I fear we cannot win the war."

"Mithrandir? What do you mean? What about the antidote?" Elladan asked, having found a seat on the armrest of Elrohir's chair.

"I think," a new voice from the doorway interrupted, "I can explain that."

All eyes snapped to the open doorway, only to land on the Lord of Imladris. Where Gandalf looked tired, Elrond looked exhausted. His face was paler than any of the room's occupants had ever seen, while his eyes held a shimmer that belied his weariness.

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Elrond made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. In his hands he held the still steaming cup of tea, which he set down on the wooden box that stood at the end of the bed, just between all the occupants of the chamber.

"Ada?" Aragorn's voice was soft, questioning.

A long sigh left Elrond's lips. How was he supposed to tell his sons that he could not safe all of them? That they would not all live to see the end of the year? Or, even the end of the week?

Feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest, Elrond gazed at his sons' faces, taking in the questioning eyes and expectant features. Before he could say anything else, or could even explain himself, the words tumbled out of Elrond's mouth.

"Geheno nin, ionnath nin. I am so sorry."

"Ada? For what are you sorry?" Aragorn could not help the feeling that he had just gotten the wrong answers to his many questions, and he wished that the door to his room had not opened. No, something was definitely not right, and knowing his and his brothers' and Legolas's luck, it was something that was really bad.

For a moment, it seemed as if Elrond would not answer, but then he licked his lips. After a quick look at Mithrandir, who nodded briefly, Elrond cleared his throat.

"My sons, Legolas…I…We, that is, Mithrandir and I, we used the lilies and brewed the antidote." His voice caught in his throat and he was unable to continue. With a trembling hand he tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear, gazing at the floor. How could he stand here and tell his sons that he could not rescue them? How could he ever face them again?

It was Elrohir who spoke up next. Shrugging, he asked, "But, that is good, is it not? I mean, it will work, will it not?"

"Aye, the antidote will work and cure you from the poison." Elrond turned and made his way over to the window, gazing at the snowy landscape outside.

"Then, where is the problem, my Lord?" Legolas shot a quick look in the direction of the Istar, but the wizard's face was unreadable.

"The problem, Legolas, is…is…."Elrond took a deep breath. "The problem is that we could not make enough of the antidote. It is not enough to save Dan, Ro and Estel. And we cannot thin it, or divide it amongst you, my sons." Elrond had turned around again while he had spoken, and the shocked look in his sons' faces was almost more than he could take.

"Do, do you mean that,…that we have to decide who shall live?" Elladan sounded as if someone had just asked of him to walk into Mordor, knock at Barad Dur and ask Sauron if he wanted to buy some garden flowers.

Tears gathered in Elrond's eyes. "Aye, Elladan, that is exactly what I mean. The tea can save you and Elrohir, or Estel. But not all of you. Your and Elrohir's strong elvish blood will help you through the healing process, and as you have only a little bit of human blood that flows through your veins, you will not need so much of the antidote. Estel, on the other hand, would need to drink the whole cup to counteract the poison."

Silence reigned for a moment as they all digested this news. Then, as if on cue, Elladan and Elrohir jumped to their feet and said in unison, "Estel will drink it!"

"No." Aragorn's quiet voice silenced the room again almost immediately.

All eyes swivelled to Aragorn, who still sat on the huge bed. When he was sure that he had everyone's attention, Aragorn lifted his head and repeated, "I will not drink the tea. You will." He nodded at his brothers, who had shaken their heads 'no' the entire time.

It was Elladan who found his voice first. "Estel, think about it. This tea is the only chance for you to survive. The one and only. You will drink it."

"Dan, I…"

But Elrohir interrupted him, "Estel, do not even try to convince us otherwise. You will drink the potion. Dan and I are elves. Maybe the poison will not kill us as it is. I mean, it was made for humans, and perhaps our elvish blood will see us through it all."

"And what if not? What if your elvish blood is not strong enough to let you live? What if the part of you that is human is stronger than you think? And what if it doesn't matter at all? Maybe the poison does not even decide between human or elven blood. Your symptoms are nearly as bad as mine; does that not mean that the poison affects you as strongly as me?"

Slowly, so as not to wake his sleeping injuries, Aragorn got to his feet. His face was pale, but set in determination, and his eyes, which had been dulled the last few days, sparkled in a light that had long been absent.

From the moment Aragorn had heard that there was not enough of the antidote to save them all, and that it came down to either his brothers or himself, he had known what to do. Dagnir had poisoned the stew because he wanted his revenge. Not revenge on the twins, no, revenge on him. It was his fault his brothers were in this situation in the first place!

And, furthermore, Aragorn knew that his father would not be able to live through the pain of losing Elladan and Elrohir. Since the departure of Celebrian, his beloved wife, Elrond had anchored his existence to the lives of his sons and Arwen. It was no secret that Elrond adored his children and was very protective of them. Of course, once Aragorn had entered Elrond's life, his love and devotion had spread to him as well, but Aragorn knew that it was not the same.

Yes, his father loved him and would willingly sacrifice his own life for him. But, to sacrifice the life of his sons, that was something completely different. No. Aragorn simply _knew_ that should something happen to the twins, Elrond would not live to see the end of the next yen. He would either sail and leave the world in darkness and shadow without the light and wisdom of the elves of Imladris, or he would die of a broken heart.

And Aragorn knew that he would find no quiet minute in his life, should he drink the tea and therewith probably convict his brothers to a painful death. Taking a deep and steadying breath, he said resolutely, "Dan, Ro…please. Drink it and save yourself."

Elladan bit his lip in frustration. He knew his human brother well enough to know that Aragorn had set his mind, and that nothing short of an earthquake or an intervention from the Valar would be able to sway him. That, or…Legolas.

Shooting his twin a brief look, Elladan gestured at the Prince. "Legolas, what say you? What do you think?"

For a moment, Legolas looked as if he had eaten something very distasteful before he turned such a shade of white that Elladan feared he would keel over any moment. With wide eyes, Legolas lifted his hands in a protective gesture before him. "You cannot ask this of me, Dan. I cannot decide!"

Letting his eyes travel from the twins to Aragorn, Legolas swallowed thickly. "How can I decide between the lives of my best friends? Of…my second family? Elladan, how should I…I cannot do that."

"And you do not have to." Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I will not drink this tea. Period. Either Dan and Ro drink it, or no one will drink it. Then all of this was for nothing and Dagnir has won in the end."

Aragorn's eyes met his father's, and for a moment his resolve wavered. Tears stood in Elrond's eyes, and Aragorn could tell that his father feared to lose all his sons. That Elladan and Elrohir would indeed not drink the tea. And in that moment Aragorn knew that he had to prevent that from happening.

Changing his tactic, Aragorn made his way over to the wooden box at the end of the bed and took up the cup of tea. He lifted it and held his arm out in front of his body.

"Drink it, Elladan."

"No, you cannot make me." Shaking his head 'no', Elladan crossed his arms across his chest and took a step back. His entire posture spoke of defiance.

Not showing the storm of emotions that raged under the surface, Aragorn turned around to face Elrohir. "Drink it."

"No."

Having anticipated this, Aragorn nodded and then sighed deeply. Before the twins could say another word, he faced his father. "Ada, would you leave us alone for a moment? Legolas, Mithrandir, you too, please."

"Estel…" Elrond began, but Aragorn interrupted him with a voice void of emotion. "Ada, please."

Mithrandir and Legolas had already reached the door and opened it, when Elrond finally made his way over to them. Before he closed the door behind him, he cast one long look into the room, so as if he feared his sons would have vanished when he opened it the next time.

The click of the lock when it met the doorframe was deafening in the silence of Aragorn's room. None of the brothers spoke, although they had so much to say to each other. But, how could you say that you wished nothing more in your life than your brother to live, and at the same moment wish to live yourself no matter what?

With heavy steps Aragorn made his way over to the large table in his room and placed the cup of warm tea on the tabletop. He wiped a hand through his long hair and then across his face. How was he supposed to convince his brothers to drink the tea? The two could be as stubborn as a dwarf.

Taking another steadying breath, Aragorn turned around, facing his brothers, who had not moved an inch.

"Elladan, Elrohir, please. You know as well as I do that the poison will more likely than not kill you. You cannot solely rely on your elvish blood to save you."

"Do you think we do not know that, Estel?" Elrohir made his way over to the huge window, but his eyes held Aragorn's. "We know that the poison can kill us. But it will kill you as well, and that is a fact. If you do not drink the antidote, you will die!"

"I will die either way, Ro," Aragorn countered, his voice unwavering. He had to make his brothers understand. "I will die one day, Ro, you know that. Maybe not today, and not tomorrow, but one day I will close my eyes, take my last breath and leave the circles of this world. And now, now it will simply be a bit earlier than I had anticipated."

"How can you say that?" Elladan nearly shouted. "Estel, this tea can save you! Do not be so stubborn, but drink it!"

Aragorn gestured at the tea, his voice getting louder while he spoke, "Aye, it can save me, but it can save the two of you as well. Both of you, Dan. We are talking about two lives instead of only one."

"Oh, do not start with figures, Estel." Elladan began to pace, his arms still crossed before his chest.

"Alright, then let me tell you something else. What do think ada will do if you and Elrohir die? What do you think?"

"Estel, that is low," Elrohir said, his voice soft.

"So, is it? It is only the truth. If you two die, then ada will either leave these shores, or fade. Do you really want that? Do you really want for him to lose his firstborn children? Do you want to leave him alone in a world that has already taken his King from him? His brother? His wife? And in a way his daughter? Do you also want to take his sons away from him?"

"And what are you then, Estel?" Elrohir said agitatedly. "A house guest?"

"You know what I mean, Elrohir. It is not the same."

"Is it not?" Elladan stopped in his pacing and faced Aragorn across the room. "Ada loves you Estel! You are our brother and his son, in all things that matter."

"Aye, but I am not his flesh and blood," Aragorn said and quickly lifted his hand to stall Elladan, who had already opened his mouth to interrupt. "Dan, from the moment I crossed the threshold to his house, ada knew that I would die one day, and that there was nothing he could do to stop that from happening."

"But we all hoped and prayed that we would have left by then and had sailed to Valinor." Elrohir said from his position near the window. "A very long time ago I made a vow. I vowed that I would protect you, that I would not leave you alone when you were in need of help, and I do not mean to break that vow."

"Me neither," Elladan said resolutely. "You are not only our brother, Estel, but also the Chieftain of the Dunedain of the North, heir to the throne of Gondor and Anor. Your life is not yours to decide over. You have a responsibility towards your people, Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

That hurt. For a moment, Aragorn was unable to say anything. Very, very seldom did his brothers call him by his real name, and that Elladan did so now brought his point home with deadly accuracy. Of course, Aragorn knew that he had a responsibility towards his people, but to him, in this very moment, his family was more important. And furthermore, he had already taken care of the leadership of the Dunedain.

"Elladan, Elrohir, you cannot expect me to…"

"We can. And we do. Ro and I will _not_, and I repeat, we will _not_ drink the tea."

"Aye." Elrohir made his way over to Elladan and stood beside him. "Either you drink the tea, or none of us will."

What was he to do? What would convince the twins to drink the antidote? And then suddenly, an idea came to him. Aragorn knew that it was indeed a low tactic, and that it would hurt his brothers to do so. But, was it not better to hurt his brothers and they lived, then hurt them not and they died along with him?

Standing tall and lifting his chin a fraction, Aragorn turned determined eyes on his brothers. In this very moment, he looked more like the exiled King of Anor and Gondor than the leader of the Dunedain. His eyes were of a stormy grey, piercing and unwavering.

"You think that if you do not drink the tea, you still have a chance of surviving the poison because of your strong elvish blood?"

The twins nodded.

"And you think that, just because you do not drink the tea, I will?"

Again, the twins nodded.

"And that the small amount of elvish blood, not matter how thinned it may be, will help me survive?"

They nodded once more.

"Well then, let me tell you what I will do." Aragorn sighed inwardly. He knew that what he was about to do was cruel, but if it saved his brothers' lives, he was more than willing to do it.

"If you do not drink the antidote, then I will not drink it either. And, furthermore, I will not sit still and wait for the end to come and hope that the bit of elvish blood that flows through my veins saves me. No, I will give back the gift."

"You cannot!" Elladan cried. With three great steps he was at Aragorn's side. Heedless of Aragorn's injuries, he grabbed his shoulders in both hands and shook him. "You cannot do that! That is…that is blackmail, Estel. Take that back.!"

"No, I mean what I said, Dan. If you do not drink the antidote, I will not wait for the poison to do its work, but end it on my own volition."

Elrohir, who stood as still as a statue, whispered softly, "You would do that? You would give up your own life so that we can live? You would blackmail us like this? Force us to do this if we do not want to be responsible for your death?"

"Yes." Aragorn's strong voice did not betray his inner turmoil.

With tears in his eyes, Elrohir made his way slowly over to the table that held the tea. With shaking hands he took the cup. "Estel, please, do not force us to do that."

Suppressing his own tears that pricked at his eyes, Aragorn swallowed. "Drink it."

"Estel, please…." But Elrohir knew from the look on Aragorn's face that he would not be swayed.

Closing his eyes and unheeding of the hot tears that rolled down his face, Elrohir gulped down half of the tea before he handed the cup to Elladan. Elladan stared at it as if it were a poisonous snake, then downed the rest of the tea. With a jerk he threw the cup into the fireplace, where the flames greedily devoured it.

"There." He practically spat at Aragorn. "Happy now?" And with that he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room before either of his brothers could see the tears that trickled down his face. Elrohir followed his brother quickly, leaving Aragorn alone in the room.

For a moment, Aragorn had the feeling his heart would simply break in two, but when the seconds ticked by, and his heart still ached, he knew that it was still whole. Nothing that was broken could hurt so much. It was not broken, but injured and dying.

But, his brothers would live. They would live.

And, was that not all that mattered?

_To be continued…_

**Okay, hope you like it. Um, just for the records, nice reviews make me post faster. Yeah, its whining time again, but I cannot help it from time to time. "g"**


	38. 37 Torturous Truth

**Beta: Chris**

**A/N: Review Replies will go out soon!**

_/italics/ are thoughts_

_Elvish translations:_

Elleth: female elf

Ion nin: My son

Iston, muindor nin: I know, my brother (by blood)

Laslaire: made up name; Leaf-Summer Summerleaf :o)

Mellyn: Friends

Naneth's: Mother's

Yen: The long year of the Eldar in Middle-earth, equal to 144 solar years

--oOo--

_"Nature's first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay." _

_(Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost)_

_--oOo--_

Chapter 37: Torturous Truth

„Elladan!" Elrond reached out to stop his son, but Elladan twisted in his grip and rushed past him, his face a mask of pain and anger. "Elladan, ion in…" Elrond called after his son, but Elladan simply hastened his steps and practically fled from the room.

His stomach clenching painfully, Elrond saw Elrohir exit the room, tears streaming down his face. He stopped in front of his father and shook his head. Elrohir opened his mouth, but no words came out, and with another shake of his head he eluded his father's grasp and ran after his older brother. Soon, the hallway was as silent as it had been before, and Elrond felt his knees become weak. It was as silent as in a grave.

/_What does this mean? Have they drunken the antidote? Or has Aragorn drunken it? What, what does it mean/_

The door to Aragorn's room had not fallen shut completely after Elrohir had left the room, but there came no sound from the inside. All that Elrond could hear was the crackling of the fire and the hissing of the candles that lined the corridor walls. Legolas and Mithrandir stood stock still behind him, too tense to move.

Knowing that he would never find out what had happened between his sons if he continued to stand motionless in the hallway, Elrond smoothed his robes and took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. The door in front of him looked suddenly very much like a rampart; impossible to climb and with nothing but the enemy waiting behind. And in this case, the enemy that Elrond feared was the truth that awaited him behind that door.

He knew how stupid that thought was, for whatever had happened was done and could not be changed. Still, as soon as he opened that door and looked into his son's face, he would know which son he was going to lose.

_/I faced Sauron on the Dagorlad and fought side by side with Gil-Galad on the slopes of Orodruin, but never before have I felt so much fear. Not after Celebrian sailed./_

Taking another deep breath, the Lord of Imladris reached out and laid his hand against the wood of the door. Slowly, he pushed the door open and peered into the room. A gust of cold wind blew into his face and sent a shiver down his spine, despite the elvish indifference to neither feel cold nor heat unless they were extreme.

Most of the candles in the room had been extinguished by the wind. But in the firelight that still fought for survival in the hearth, Elrond could see that Aragorn was not in the room. The doors to the balcony stood open, the heavy curtains fluttering in the wind.

His steps hesitant and his breath coming in shallow takes, Elrond slowly made his way over to the balcony. He knew what he would find even before he pulled the curtains away and stepped out onto the snow covered porch. Starlight bathed the balcony in a silver light, illuminating the tall figure that stood near the balustrade, leaning against the wood, head bent and shoulders hunched.

"Estel." Elrond's voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the night it carried across the balcony effortlessly.

"I could not let them die because of me," Aragorn said softly, his voice void of emotion. "I could not."

Elrond closed his eyes tightly. This was what he had dreaded and at the same time hoped to hear. For the fraction of a second he felt immense relief flood through him at the thought that the twins would live, but immediately guilt, so strong that it took his breath away, surged through him. Sadness, anger and a multitude of other emotions battled for supremacy inside his heart, and for long seconds he could do nothing but stay there, his eyes clenched shut, holding his breath.

Snow crunched, clothing rustled and in the next moment Elrond felt the warm arms of his son embrace him, holding him tightly. As if he was still an elfling, Elrond wrapped his arms around Aragorn, in that very moment unheeding of his son's injuries. He leaned his weight into Aragorn's, holding onto him as if the man was a lifeline. Hot tears streamed down his face and he took a few shuddering breaths.

"Shh, it is alright, Ada. It was my decision and I knew what I was doing." Aragorn began to rub Elrond's back in soothing circles, leaning into his father for support when his injured knee began to sway under him. Behind Elrond, two shapes appeared at the doors to the balcony, and with the help of the starlight Aragorn could make out the forms of Legolas and Gandalf.

Aragorn nodded in their direction and gave them a small, pained smile. A single tear fell from Aragorn's eye and he said softly, so that only his father could hear him, "I would do it again, Ada. I regret nothing."

--oOo--

"Dan, wait!" Elrohir shouted after his brother, but Elladan simply increased his pace, running down the stairs that let into the entrance hall. "Dan, please wait."

His long, dark hair streaming behind him, Elrohir hastened after his agitated brother, wishing to stop and talk with him. What had just happened had shaken Elrohir and he was not sure how he was supposed to react.

He felt angry at Aragorn for having forced him and Elladan to drink the antidote; sad because he knew his foster brother would die; confused, because this was not how it was supposed to be, and most of all he felt absolutely helpless. And he hated feeling helpless. Helplessness had been the emotion that he had felt when his mother had sailed, and it had driven his brother and him into a crusade of revenge that had nearly killed them.

Helplessness had been the emotion he had felt when Arathorn had died so many years ago, an arrow piercing his eye. That day, Elrohir had sworn to never feel so helpless again, and so far he had not broken that promise, always being prepared for all eventualities. But now, how was one supposed to be prepared for something like this? How was an elf supposed to prepare for death to come?

Elladan reached the entrance door and yanked it open, ready to escape into the darkness of the night and ready to flee from all that had just happened. Elrohir saw his brother step outside, but before Elladan had taken more than a few steps, he came to an abrupt halt.

Running only a few steps behind his brother, Elrohir barely avoided running smack into his brother's back, and when he had found his balance, he gazed upon the thing that had stopped his brother. Or rather, the person, who had stopped his brother.

"Halbarad, Glorfindel!" Elrohir exclaimed, for a moment too surprised to say anything more intelligent.

"Aye, young one." Glorfindel glanced at the twins and his face changed from amused to worried in the blink of an eye. "What happened?"

Angrily wiping the tears from his face, Elladan gestured behind him. "Estel happened. He…he…" His voice cracked and fresh tears began to fall. Before anyone could stop him, Elladan pushed past Glorfindel and a stunned Halbarad and vanished into the night, his feet not leaving impressions in the snow.

"Dan! Da-an!" Elrohir called after him, but Elladan did not stop in his flight. Sighing, Elrohir peered into the darkness for a moment, before he swallowed thickly. His throat hurt from his attempt to suppress his tears, and he closed his eyes briefly to control his emotions.

"Elrohir, what happened?"

With a sad look upon his face, Elrohir wiped the tears from his cheeks, just like his brother had done only moments prior. Sniffing one last time, he gestured at the front door. "We should talk inside."

Only now did Elrohir see the small group of rangers that stood quietly behind Halbarad, their faces showing their confusion. Obviously, the rangers had returned to Imladris after their search of the villages, and Glorfindel had told them the good news that they had found the lilies of the valley. But, Glorfindel had left the Last Homely House to check on the patrols before the antidote had been ready, and so far he knew not what had transpired.

Elrohir re-entered his home, letting the rangers and Glorfindel pass him by, before he closed the huge front door. He stopped a passing servant and spoke loud enough for all to hear, "Laslaire, would you please see the rangers to their rooms? I am sure they are tired from their journey and would like to refresh themselves. Perhaps the cook can send them something warm to eat and some spiced wine as well."

The servant nodded and began to move into the direction of the guest wing, but to his surprise the rangers did not move from where they stood in the entrance hall. The elleth turned a questioning look on Elrohir.

"Please, mellyn, Laslaire will show you to your rooms, where warmth and comfort will await you."

"With all due respect, Elrohir," Halbarad said, "but we would like to know how our Chieftain fares. Lord Glorfindel told us that the antidote was found. Is it true?"

Silence settled over the hall, so complete that Elrohir could hear his own heartbeat. All pairs of eyes stared at him and he felt his face pale. What was he supposed to tell them? Should he tell them the truth or rather a white lie? Was it not rather Estel's right to tell his men what had happened?

Taking a shivering breath and feeling his composure shake, Elrohir decided to say as little as possible right now. "Aye, the needed lilies were found and my father and Mithrandir have brewed the antidote."

The rangers exchanged looks, but their faces remained confused. Halbarad took a step towards Elrohir, spreading his arms wide. "Then, with all due respect, why do you look as if it was not so?"

Swallowing thickly, Elrohir could not help but shoot a quick look at Glorfindel. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, and he did not feel as if he could tell these men, although they were rangers, what had transpired.

Feeling rather helpless –again– Elrohir gestured at the servant. "Please, all will be explained in time. For now, Laslaire will show you to your rooms." When he saw the stubborn look in the rangers' eyes, Elrohir added, "Halbarad, if you will follow me, there are things I need to discuss with you."

Without looking back to check whether his orders were obeyed, Elrohir moved down the hall, into the direction of the library. A few moments later he heard how Halbarad told his men to go with the elleth and that he would speak with them as soon as he had any news on Aragorn.

Seconds later, Halbarad and Glorfindel sidled up with him, but neither of them spoke until they reached the library and Elrohir had closed the door behind him. Then, it began.

"Elrohir! What, in the name of Elbereth is going on?" Glorfindel grasped Elrohir's shoulders in a firm grip, his eyes serious.

New tears gathered in Elrohir's eyes, the pain of the knowledge he held was too fresh. "We will lose him, Glorfindel," he said quietly.

"Whom?" Glorfindel asked, but from what he had seen when returning to the house, he already expected the answer.

"Estel. We will lose Estel to the poison," Elrohir whispered, then turned around and made his way over to one of the windows that overlooked a part of the gardens.

Halbarad, who had paled visibly at his words, exchanged a questioning look with Glorfindel, but the elf waved a hand to silence him. Cautiously, Glorfindel approached the younger twin, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, Ro."

Very rarely did Glorfindel use his abbreviated name, and Elrohir knew that Glorfindel was truly concerned. Crossing his arms across his chest and starring out of the window, Elrohir began to tell them everything that had happened since the elleth had brought them the lilies. He spoke haltingly at first, but then the words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush.

"And now," he said sadly, "Estel is going to die and none of us can save him."

Silence settled in the room as they all digested the tale, but then Halbarad moved towards the door, his face ashen. "I have to talk to him. He promised. Curse him, he promised!" He almost yelled, threw open the door and ran down the hallway before either of the elves could stop him.

Elrohir made to follow him, but Glorfindel held him back with a hand on his arm. "Let him be. He aches as much as we do."

Elrohir nodded, before he turned his back towards the door and gazed once more out of the window. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around the younger twin and held him securely against his chest the same way he had done when Elrohir had been an elfling, while Elrohir cried silent tears. And in that moment, Glorfindel asked himself what all his strength and skill was good for, if he was not even able to keep the ones he loved from harm.

--oOo--

Halbarad could not believe what he had heard. How could Aragorn have done that? Had he not promised to hold onto hope? To not die? To not give up? Given, it had been either he or the twins and nobody should be forced to make such a choice, but right now Halbarad seethed with anger. Of course he did not want the twins to die, but in his opinion the elven twins had more chances of survival without the antidote than had Aragorn.

He knew that he was not truly angry at Aragorn, but his helplessness and frustration needed an outlet, and in that very moment Aragorn was a perfect scapegoat. It was easier to be angry with his friend than to be angry with himself or a long dead Gondorian.

Taking two steps at a time, Halbarad raced up the stairs leading to the first floor, hoping to find Aragorn still in his room. The elves that met him in the hallway gave him strange glances, but he ignored them. They were not important right now.

Almost stumbling over his own feet in his haste and still wearing the worn travelling coat he had worn when arriving from the trip to the human settlements, Halbarad threw open the door to Aragorn's room, not even bothering to knock.

The room was almost completely dark, and he had problems making out the two beings who stood at the open balcony door. Blinking and stopping in his tracks for a moment to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness, Halbarad stared around. After a moment he saw that it were Gandalf and Legolas, who watched him from across the room. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he? Where IS he?" He yelled, anger in his voice.

"Halbarad, what…" Legolas began, but Halbarad would have none of it. With two great steps he stepped into the room, repeating loudly, "Aragorn, where is he?"

The curtain behind Gandalf moved in the wind, and Halbarad could see the Lord of Imladris and Aragorn enter the room. Aragorn looked pale and worn, while Elrond looked dishevelled and…old. If that was possible with elves.

Not even noticing that Elrond had an arm wrapped around Aragorn's waist to keep him upright, Halbarad moved to stand directly in from of his Chieftain. "What did you do, Aragorn? You promised me!"

"Halbarad…" Aragorn began, but Halbarad interrupted him.

"No, none of it. Is it true? Is it true what Elrohir told me?"

Legolas and Gandalf, who had moved out of the way and now stood near the hearth, exchanged brief looks. From the look on Gandalf's face, the old wizard had been expecting this. He did not look in the least bit surprised. Legolas, on the other hand, felt as if someone had just punched him into the stomach. Never before had he seen the otherwise so calm and controlled Halbarad lose his temper; least of all with Aragorn.

Speaking calmly, Aragorn answered, "If Elrohir told you that I did not drink the antidote, then aye, it is true."

Disbelief mixed with anger on Halbarad's face and he shook his head, saying, "Why? They are elves, Aragorn! They had a chance, while you have not."

"It was my decision and I do not regret it," Aragorn said, shivering slightly.

"Your decision?" Halbarad began to pace the room. Pointing a finger at Aragorn, he said agitatedly, "No! No! It was not your decision to make. You cannot decide about your life, for it is not yours to decide over!

"Have you even thought about your people? About us? You have a responsibility towards us, and that means that you have to stay alive, Aragorn! Did you even spend one thought about the Dunedain?"

"Do you think I made this decision lightly?" Aragorn took a step away from Elrond, the pain in his knee forgotten for the moment. Another shiver crawled down his spine, but his voice was strong and resolute when he added, "I thought about it, Halbarad. And being heir of Isildur or not, this is my life and I decide about it."

"Oho, is that so!" Halbarad threw his hands in the air. "And have you thought about the fact that you are the last heir to Isildur, huh? Not the second last, no, the last. What do you think will happen to the Dunedain after your death?"

Taking another step forwards and beginning to tremble, Aragorn spread his arms wide in an attempt to calm his friend. "You managed quite well without me these last twenty something years. And you yourself set up the succession document, Halbarad."

Stopping in his tracks, Halbarad gave Aragorn an intense look and all the agitation and anger had left his voice when he spoke next. "That is not what I mean. Aragorn, what will happen with us? Me? You are not only our Chieftain, but our friend! My friend."

Sighing, Aragorn did not know what to say for a moment. It was true. When he had first come to the Dunedain, he had felt like an outsider, merely the returned Chieftain. But with the years passing, he had found new comrades and friends, had concluded marriages and been there when children had been born, celebrating with the parents and relatives.

His voice shook when he spoke, "I am sorry, Halbarad. But it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do."

Another tremor coursed through his body, stronger this time, and Aragorn shook visibly.

"Come here, Estel," Elrond said gently and placed a warm blanket around Aragorn's shoulders. "You should not have gone out into the cold, Estel. You are still weak from your wounds."

"I am alright, Ada," Aragorn said, but the trembling increased. Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders, ever mindful of the arrow wound that was still healing. "Maybe a bit cold."

"Then come here to the fire," Elrond said and guided Aragorn towards a high backed chair that stood in front of the fireplace. Legolas began to light the candles in the room which had been blown out by the wind, and Gandalf closed the doors to the balcony.

Wrapping another blanket around Aragorn's trembling shoulders, Elrond frowned, but said nothing. Placing another log into the hearth, he poked the fire with an iron poker until the flames burned brightly.

"Aragorn…I am sorry." Halbarad, wringing his hands, approached Aragorn. "I should not have said that."

Turning towards Elrond, he bowed his head. "I meant no disrespect towards you or your sons, my Lord. It was just, when I heard what had happened…" A great sigh left his lips and he moved a hand across his weary face. "What shall we do now?" he said softly.

"First, we see to it that Aragorn here gets something warm to drink. He is trembling like a little leaf in an autumn storm," Gandalf said, drawing the curtains before the windows to keep out the night's cold.

Wishing to do something and needing time to think about what had just occurred, Halbarad said promptly, "I will go to the kitchens, see if they can make a hot soup?" When Elrond nodded, he gazed at Aragorn, opening his mouth as if to say something, but then he reconsidered and simply nodded. The door closed softly behind him.

"Children," Gandalf huffed and settled down on the bed, rummaging in his pockets. After a glare from Elrond he sighed deeply and gave up the search for his pipe.

"Aragorn, are you sure you are alright?" Legolas asked, kneeling down next to the chair Aragorn occupied. Although he was swathed in two blankets now and the fire was roaring in the hearth, Aragorn was shivering and trembling strongly.

"Aye, j-just cold." Aragorn tightened the blankets around his shoulder, going so far as to draw up his uninjured leg for more warmth. The trembling had reached his arms and hands and his whole body felt the shivers coursing through him.

"Maybe some wine would not be wrong now." Legolas ventured, shooting a brief glance at Elrond, who frowned, but nodded.

"I will see to it. Maybe some miruvor will help warm you, Estel." Placing a hand on Aragorn's forehead, Elrond shook his head. "You have no fever, ion nin. Perhaps it would be a good idea to lie down and get some rest. And it will be warmer under the covers."

Nodding, Aragorn rose to his feet, but his body was trembling so strongly now that he was unsteady and had to grab Legolas's shoulder for support. Together with Elrond and Legolas, he made it over to his bed, sitting down heavily. Gandalf had removed the blankets and covers and was holding several pillows in his hands.

"Lie down, Estel. Careful with your leg now." Elrond helped Aragorn to lie down, taking the pillows from Gandalf to prop his head up. Spreading the woollen blankets over Aragorn, Elrond caressed his cheek gently. "Why don't you rest some while I get that wine?"

Because of another tremble that chose that particular moment to surge through him, Aragorn merely nodded. He did not feel cold at all now that he had sat near the fire, but he was unsure as to the reason he was trembling so strongly. Perhaps some wine and soup would help him calm down. After all, it had been a hard day.

Smiling down at his son, Elrond left the room to fetch the wine. Or better, some flask of miruvor; the strong liquid would not only drive off the cold but also revive some of Aragorn's spirits.

To say that Legolas felt awkward was the understatement of the yen. How was he supposed to feel now? Numerous emotions raged through him since the moment he had heard that the twins had drunk the antidote and that his friend would die. Anger, hurt, sadness, rage…relief, happiness, guilt. Could a person feel all that at the same time? Confusion, aye, he felt confused, too. And worried.

Sitting down on the bed, Legolas placed a hand on Aragorn's arm. "Estel, you are still shivering. Are you cold?"

"N-not really," Aragorn stuttered, and only now did Legolas notice that Aragorn's lips were very pale. Settling deeper into the soft mattress and pulling the thick blanket right up under his chin, Aragorn closed his eyes, concentrating on getting warm.

"Uhm, Mithrandir, would you please place another log on the fire?" Legolas asked uncertainly, but the wizard did not move. "Mithrandir?"

With a huge frown that made his bushy eyebrows meet in the middle of his face, Gandalf stepped up to the bed and then put a gnarled hand on Aragorn's brow. "Mhmm." His beard made a small hop when Gandalf bit his lower lip.

"Legolas, go and get Elrond," he said quietly, but with a sense of urgency in his voice.

"What? Why?" Confused, Legolas glanced first at Gandalf and then at Aragorn, whose lips had turned a faint blue. "Estel?"

"Legolas, go and get Elrond." Gripping Legolas's arm, Gandalf pulled the slender elf to his feet and gave him a push into the direction of the door.

On the bed, Aragorn began to tremble now in earnest. He opened his eyes, a small flicker of fear in them. "L-legolas? Mithrandir?" Another shiver shook him, making his teeth chatter.

"Shh, Estel, lie still." Gandalf soothed him, shedding his outer robe and rolling up his sleeves. Another strong shiver made Aragorn's breath shudder.

Looking up, Gandalf met Legolas's eyes. "Tell Elrond that the poison attacks again. Hurry."

It was as if someone had driven a knife into his stomach. Cold, hurting fear gripped Legolas and for a moment he was unable to move. The poison. Four days. Five weeks. Had Gandalf not told them that none of the victims had survived the poison longer than five weeks? Had it already been five weeks since they had been poisoned?

"Legolas!" Gandalf thundered, making Legolas jump. But the authoritative voice ripped him out of his shock, and with a last look at Aragorn, he turned on his heel and fled the room in search of Elrond.

--oOo--

"Elladan? Are you here?" After he had talked with Glorfindel and given voice to most of his emotions and fears, Elrohir had began to search for his missing twin. He knew that Elladan would not leave the grounds of Imladris. He had checked on the horses in the stable already and none was missing.

Without any clouds to cover the sky, the night was bitter cold. The upper layer of the snow had melted during the day due to the sunshine, but it had already frozen now, making the snow crunch even under Elrohir's light weight. Silver moonlight made the valley glimmer and glitter with sparkles of light, and with the help of the lit lanterns and the many torches that illuminated the gardens, Elrohir easily found his way around.

There were only a few places that Elladan used as hiding spots when he was hurt or upset, and seeing that Elrohir had already been to most of them without any success, he suspected that his missing brother was near.

"Dan? Please, answer me!" His voice echoed across the frozen garden eerily. In nights such as this one, with the snow and the stars and the cold, every sound seemed to be multiplied.

"Go away." Came a murmured reply, followed by a sniff.

"Dan?" Making his way around a snow-covered rhododendron, Elrohir finally found his older brother.

Elladan was sitting on a stone bench, head bent and hands folded in his lap. His long, dark hair fell around his shoulders, the braids having come loose sometime during his flight.

Sitting down next to Elladan, Elrohir asked softly, "What are you doing in naneth's garden, Dan? Come inside the house."

Shrugging his shoulders, Elladan did not answer and neither did he look up. Fiddling with his thumbs, he took a deep breath.

"Dan, I know you are angry and hurt. As am I. But…it was his decision, you know."

"No it was not," Elladan said, but although his words were meant very serious, his voice held no anger. "We are his older brothers, Ro. We are supposed to look after him, help him and keep him from harm."

Lifting his head, he turned teary eyes on Elrohir. "We should have forced him to drink the antidote."

"You know he would not have drunk it. And he made that fact very clear."

"You mean his threat to give back Iluvatar's gift?" Elladan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed again. "That was a bluff and you know it well. And furthermore, I doubt that Iluvatar would accept his gift at such a young age."

Smiling sadly, Elrohir commented, "Estel can be very stubborn."

A soft, short laugh left Elladan's lips. "Aye, that it true." Silence settled between them for a minute or two, before Elladan added sadly, "Now, Eru will have no other choice than to accept his life."

Squeezing Elladan's shoulder, Elrohir scooted closer. "He will not be alone in Mandos's Halls, Dan. Elros will be there and Arathorn. Gilraen."

"I know. But that does not make it any easier."

"Iston, muindor nin."

Giving his brother's shoulder another squeeze, Elrohir stood up. "Are you coming with me?"

"No, let me…let me sit here for another moment. I will come shortly."

"Alright." Elrohir took a few steps into the direction of the house, but then he stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Elladan, you know that Estel is no child anymore. Although we do not want to admit it in our hearts, he is a grown man and makes his own decisions. He knew what he did."

"Mithrandir?" Elladan asked, looking at his brother.

Elrohir smiled. "Glorfindel."

Turning, Elrohir made his way towards the house. A cold gust of wind made him shiver. Shiver? Elves did not shiver, at least not from the cold, unless it was extreme. Only now did Elrohir notice the tense feeling in his stomach and the darkness that nudged him at the back of his mind. It felt…it felt like it had felt only a few short weeks before, when he had felt Aragorn's predicament.

Just in that moment, a loud yell reached Elrohir's ears, coming from the Last Homely House.

"Lord Elrond!"

_To be continued…_

_So, what do you think? Do you like it? Many thanks for all the nice reviews, I only now noticed that I reached the 500! Amazing, absolutely terrific. You are such great people. :)_

_Check out my livejournal at for a brainstorming on my new story. Thanks!_


	39. 38 Cold Comfort

**Beta: None, as Chris is still on vacation.**

**A/N: I hope you do not mind me posting an unbetaed chapter. Chris comes back next week, and then she will surely have no time to beta right away. I thought posting the new chapter now, although with the mistakes, would be better than not posting at all for two weeks or so. **

**Chapters 39 and 40 are finished too. Let me know whether you want to wait till Chris is back or not. Thankies! The review replies went out a few minutes prior. ;o)**

_Elvish translations:_

Avo 'osto: fear not

Lasto beth nin: Listen to me

Mellon nin: my friend

Tithen pen: Little one

--oOo--

"_Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life." _

_(Lord Byron)_

--oOo--

Chapter 38: Cold Comfort

With his heart hammering in his chest and his feet flying down the steps, Legolas heard himself call for Lord Elrond. For the amount of panic he felt his voice sounded calm, but with an underlying tone of urgency. It echoed off the walls and a passing servant gave him a confused look that changed into pity the moment he saw Legolas's frightened eyes.

His hair trailing behind him like a banner in a storm he raced down the stairs, taking two at a time and jumping the last five altogether. In his haste to find the Lord of Imladris, Legolas had taken no time to fasten his tunic, which Aragorn had opened seemingly hours ago to tend to his shoulder, but he did not care. How could something so insignificant have mattered to him only an hour ago?

"Lord Elrond!" Calling Elrond's name, Legolas sped around a corner and ran smack into Halbarad, who carried a tray laden with tea and soup. The tray fell to the floor, the bowl of soup shattering and sending the hot liquid flying in all directions. Bits and pieces of vegetables landed on Legolas's tunic and in his hair, but he did not notice.

Jumping to his feet he pulled Halbarad up with him. "Where is Lord Elrond, have you seen him?"

"No, I was in the kitchen. I…"

Without another word Legolas hastened on, letting Halbarad stand in the pool of soup and tea, calling after him, "Legolas? Legolas!"

Legolas ran down the hallway into the direction of the infirmary. Elrond had a store room adjoining the healing rooms and it was more than likely that he had gone there to fetch some healing tea. All that talk of wine was nonsense, and Legolas knew it well.

Bursting through the double doors to the infirmary, Legolas turned his head left and right. "Lord Elrond! Lord Elrond!"

A door at the other end of the room was opened and Elrond poked his head out. He opened his mouth so say something, but one look at the giddy Legolas told him all he needed to know. "I'm coming."

Elrond placed the glass flask of miruvor down on a side table, where it swayed for some precarious moments close to the edge, before the thin flask lost its balance and fell down the table. It shattered on the floor into a thousand tiny pieces of colourful glass, but Elrond and Legolas had already left the room and were chasing down the hallway into the direction of Aragorn's room.

All the commotion had not gone unnoticed and when Elrond and Legolas reached the entrance hall and the staircase that would lead them up to the first floor where the family rooms were located, the front doors flew open, admitting the twins into the house.

"Ada! What has happened?" Elrohir asked breathlessly, his cheeks red from the cold.

"Estel, it is Estel. The poison attacks again." Legolas called, not even bothering to slow down.

"Oh Valar no, please." Elrohir's eyes widened in shock, but then he hastened after his father and Legolas, Elladan in tow.

But just in that moment, Halbarad reached the entrance hall, still dripping with soup, and behind him the rest of the rangers followed. They had obviously heard the commotion going on and where no longer willing to be left out.

One of them, an older ranger with an almost grey beard, the same ranger who had spoken so freely with Aragorn before the search, lifted his voice, "Halbarad! My Lord Elrond! What is going on?"

Elrond, having reached the top of the stairs by now, did not even acknowledge the ranger, but ran down the hallway and out of sight. The twins turned briefly but hastened on as well, while Legolas called over his shoulder, "The poison."

Halbarad was at the staircase with four great steps and had already reached the middle when the twins spurted out of side at the top. The four other rangers exchanged looks, before they, too, followed the others. They would no longer be left behind when one of his own, their Chieftain none the less, was in trouble.

Elrond was still some yards away from Aragorn's door when he heard the yells coming from within the room. It sounded as if a struggle was taking place, with glass shattering and oaths being hurled.

"Glorfindel, hold his arms downs!"

That was unambiguous Gandalf's deep voice. He sounded calm and controlled, but Elrond had known the wizard long enough to know when he was upset. And right now Gandalf was very upset at something.

"I am trying, but he is too strong and …slippery. I don't want to hurt him, Mithrandir. We need help!"

Where Gandalf sounded upset, Glorfindel sounded as if someone had just told him that Sauron himself stood on the porch, demanding entry. There was a little hop in his voice that Elrond was certain he had last heard when the twins had been elflings and had fallen into an undergrowth of poison ivy.

Elrond reached the door a fraction before Legolas did, his heart racing a mile a minute. Pushing the door open resolutely, he stopped dead in his tracks when he beheld the scene inside the room.

Gandalf and Glorfindel stood on either side of the huge bed, their bodies bent across it. They were trying to hold down a convulsing Aragorn, who seemed to struggle fiercely with them. His face was pale and drawn in pain, while his jaw was set in a hard line. Suddenly, Aragorn threw his head back against the pillows, and it was clear for all who watched that he was feeling intense pain, although he made no sound.

"Estel!" Pushing past Elrond, Legolas hurried to the bed, staring down at his friend. His movement ripped Elrond out of his shock, and with an oath he hastened after Legolas.

The time the elves had stood in the open doorway had given the rangers the needed time to reach the first floor and Aragorn's room. In shocked silence they watched as the twins gripped one of Aragorn's legs each, pressing their brother down without causing him any harm, while Gandalf and Glorfindel tightened their holds on his arms. Legolas, standing between Gandalf and Elladan, held one hand pressed against Aragorn's chest, where the heart was, while his other searched for the pulse.

"Sweet Eru." One of the rangers whispered, speaking out what the others thought. Although they would not intervene unless it was necessary, in that very moment the rangers knew that they would not leave their Chieftain alone either. Halbarad took a step into the room, but he stayed beside the door and out of the way; sending a prayer to all the Valar who were willing to listen.

Shedding his formal robes in haste, Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's forehead, while Aragorn continued to convulse and tremble at the same time. His muscles seemed to contract and cramp, while his legs and arms trembled. It was a strange and frightening sight to behold.

Elrond frowned. How could this be? How was that possible? Pulling his hand away, he opened the tunic Aragorn wore, tearing the fabric when Aragorn did not cease his involuntary struggle but pulled away. Placing his hand on his son's chest and spreading his fingers, Elrond's worry deepened. How was this possible? With all the blankets and the fire in the hearth?

"Ada? What is it? What is happening to him?" Elladan said while pushing Aragorn's leg down firmly.

Elrond removed his hand and stood back a moment. Gazing down at Aragorn, he took in all the blankets that had covered him before he had begun to convulse, then looked at the fire that burned brightly in the hearth. "I don't understand," he murmured softly.

"What? Ada, what do you not understand?" Elrohir grunted and tried to keep Aragorn from kicking at him with his injured leg.

"He is cold." Elrond said, peering once more at the flickering flames in the hearth. "His skin is cold to the touch."

"What?" Glorfindel said, then felt Aragorn's brow for himself, recoiling at the coldness he felt. "Valar, as if he is dead already."

Feeling panic rise in his chest, Legolas turned huge eyes on Elrond. "Why? What can we do to stop this?"

Shrugging in frustration, Elrond practically shouted, "I do not know, Legolas. Let me think!"

A hurt look flittered across Legolas's face, but he said nothing more. Instead, he began to talk soothingly to Aragorn. Although Aragorn trembled and convulsed and was obviously in much pain, he was not unconscious. Legolas's words had an impact on him, for he seemed to breathe easier now that his friend talked to him.

Still, in that very moment, Legolas felt as if he was the most useless elf in all of Arda. Due to his broken shoulder he could not help hold Aragorn down, and being a warrior and no healer, he did not know what to do now to help his friend.

Placing his uninjured hand on Aragorn's brow, Legolas shuddered inwardly at the coldness he felt, but he kept his hand there, preventing Aragorn from tossing his head around too much.

"Shh, all will be well, Estel. I promise. Keep fighting, mellon nin. Avo 'osto." Legolas said softly, but he knew that Aragorn heard him, for he opened his eyes for the flicker of a moment, locking his with Legolas's.

"That's it, Estel. We are all here and we will stay with you. You'll see, all will be well soon."

Another, strong cramp hit, and Aragorn clenched his teeth in a reflex. Looking around, Legolas demanded, "We need something for him to bite on. He will swallow his tongue if we do not."

"Here. Use this." Halbarad stepped forward and pressed one of his knives into Legolas's hand. The handle was made of smooth wood; it would neither splinter nor hurt Aragorn in any other way.

"Thank you." Legolas took the knife and bent down once more. He was just to pry Aragorn's mouth open, when another, even heavier convulsion hit. Gasping, Aragorn's eyes flew open, before he began to trash so heavily that he hit Glorfindel right in the face. Cursing, the golden haired warrior re-gripped Aragorn's arm and pressed him into the mattress.

Taking a breath that hitched a little, Legolas locked his eyes with Aragorn's. "Estel, try to open your mouth, please. I only want to help you."

But before Aragorn could comply, another cramp hit; his eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness, while his body still fought the hold of the elves and the invisible hold of the poison cursing through his veins.

"Legolas, step back." The commanding voice of Elrond filled the room. The tone sounded as if Elrond had finally found a solution, but those who knew him, knew that there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice.

"Elrond?" Gandalf questioned, eyebrows raised.

Sparing a brief glance at the Istar, Elrond removed the numerous blankets that covered Aragorn more or less, having become tangled when the trashing had begun. "He is too cold, but the blankets and the fire are not helping him. We need to cool him down."

"What? Ada, that will kill him!" Elrohir sounded panicked and from the look on Elladan's face, he was not alone in that opinion.

"Legolas, douse the fire in the hearth." Elrond ordered and Legolas obeyed without questioning him. None of them had a plan or knew what to do. If Lord Elrond thought he knew what to do, then Legolas was the last to question him.

Grabbing the washing bowl from the nightstand, Legolas made short order of the fire and drowned the flames with the water. They hissed and sputtered, but soon only grey smoke rose into the chimney, while the room was bathed in near complete darkness. The few candles that burned were not enough to truly brighten the chamber.

There came still trashing sounds from the bed, but they grew weaker and softer. Elladan turned scared eyes on his father, "Ada, he becomes weaker. Are you…are you sure you know what you are doing?"

Never, never before had Legolas heard anyone questioning the Lord of Imladris, but in this very moment, when he saw Aragorn's pale, unconscious form convulse on the bed, he felt as if the question should be asked. He would do anything he was told right now, but that did not mean he had no fears as to this kind of treatment. Humans needed warmth, and injured humans even more so. That was something he had learned early on in his friendship with Aragorn.

"No, I am not sure." Silence fell in the room, and all present turned surprised eyes on Elrond. The Lord of Imladris was not known to be unsure when it concerned the healing arts.

Sighing, Elrond opened Aragorn's tunic even further, revealing purple bruises and pristine white bandages. "When we were outside earlier, he was perfectly fine. Cold yes, but fine. Only when we came inside did he start to shiver and tremble. It must have to do with the warmth in here."

And indeed, once the blankets lay in a heap on the floor and Aragorn's tunic had been opened, the convulsions lessened, before they stopped completely. Cautiously, fearing that they might start once more, Elladan, Elrohir, Gandalf and Glorfindel released their hold on arms and legs.

"Is it over, Elrond? Was that it?" Glorfindel asked, tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear.

"I don't know, but I fear not. From what I have been told and seen this poison is a clever one." Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's brow and nodded. "His temperature sinks further, but not as fast anymore, it seems."

"And now?" Elrohir asked, stemming his hands in his sides. "What shall we do, Ada? Cold poultices? Wet towels?"

On the bed, Aragorn still trembled and shivered, having not yet woken. His lips showed a pale shade of blue, while his skin was whiter than the clouds on a summer day. The few bruises that still marred his skin looked darker and more vicious than before, giving him an ill and beaten look.

While they all waited for Elrond to speak and make a decision, the trembling increased. Soon, Elrond knew, the cramping would start again. Sure enough, only a second later Aragorn groaned in his unconsciousness, when both his calves cramped painfully, making the muscles turn hard and unyielding.

In that moment, Elrond came to a decision. Everything in him screamed to warm Aragorn; to put him under a heap of warmed blankets, give him hot tea and place him in front of a roaring fire. But, he knew that that would be the exact thing that could kill Aragorn.

"Glorfindel, help me." Elrond said, already bending down to lift Aragorn off the bed. "Take his feet, but be careful of his knee."

Hesitating for only a second, Glorfindel took hold of Aragorn's legs, lifting the man off the bed together with Elrond. Normally, Elrond would have had no problems carrying Aragorn on his own, but given the trembling and cramps, he wanted to make sure that he did not let him fall.

"Ada? Ada what are you doing?" Elrohir asked, hurrying after his father and Glorfindel when they strode to the door.

"We will take him outside." Elrond answered, carrying Aragorn past the assembled rangers, who moved quietly out of the way. The Dunedain looked as if they very much doubted the sanity of Elrond, but they said nothing; if their Chieftain trusted Elrond, then they would, too.

Quickly following Glorfindel and their father, the twins rushed past the rangers. Legolas and Gandalf followed, and after a moment the rangers grabbed some candles and lights from inside the room and from alcoves in the corridor walls and hastened after them.

Elrond and Glorfindel reached the stairs and began to descend slowly, so as not to let Aragorn fall, who trembled more fiercely than before. The glow orbs the rangers were carrying threw flickering shadows on the walls, giving the scene an unholy atmosphere.

"Outside Ada? But it is freezing cold outside." Elrohir said, sounding unconvinced.

"Estel needs the cold to survive now, Elrohir." Gripping Aragorn tighter, Elrond almost missed a step and took a moment to control his balance. "Elrohir, trust me now."

"I do, Ada. It is just…just…" Elrohir swallowed, but said no more. He did not truly know what worried him so, only that the dark something still nudged him at the back of his mind, telling him that something was greatly amiss. Perhaps it would quieten as soon as Aragorn was out in the cold.

When Elrond and Glorfindel reached the bottom of the stairs, they immediately headed for the double front doors. Elladan and Elrohir passed them by quickly, each of them holding open one of the wooden doors. Cold wind blew inside, extinguishing the candles, but the glow orbs continued to burn.

Aragorn's struggles became more fiercely while the elves carried him outside and Elrond and Glorfindel, although they were elves, were hard pressed to not drop him. Their task was not made any easier by the fact that they were loath to hurt him further, thus not able to grab his arms, chest and legs properly.

"Over there, Glorfindel." Elrond nodded into the direction of a small grass field. A field that was usually full of flowers in the summer, but was now covered in snow.

With the rangers, the twins, Legolas, Gandalf and a large part of the household watching, Elrond and Glorfindel carried Aragorn towards the spot Elrond had indicated, and then laid him down in the cold snow.

They grabbed his arms and legs, trying to keep him from hurting himself. With his hands holding Aragorn's convulsing body down, Elrond only had his voice to sooth his son. "Estel, lasto beth nin. Try to relax, Estel. Take deep breaths."

For a moment it seemed as if Aragorn would heed Elrond's words, but then the trembling and cramping strengthened, leaving him gasping for breath the one time, and breathless the other.

Behind them, Elladan and Elrohir stood atop the snow, their faces pale and distraught. Since this whole nightmare had started, it had been Elrohir who had felt the poison first, followed by Elladan. And since they had been home, Elrohir's early alarm system had served to prevent Aragorn from feeling the attacks at all. It was…frightening for them to see their brother now, in the throws of yet another attack, while they felt…nothing.

Obviously, the antidote worked. And it could have saved Aragorn was well.

Not saying a word, eyes locked on the scene in front of him, Elrohir reached out and took hold of Elladan's hand. Their fingers wx entwined, just like they had done when they had stood on the docks of the Grey Havens the day their mother had sailed. And just like on that day, both prayed for all the pain and fear to leave their hearts and to make place for better times.

"Estel! Listen! Please, stay calm. Try it, take deep breaths!" Elrond did not know what he should do when, instead of calming, Aragorn began to convulse even more strongly. Why was the cold not working? Had he misjudged the poison's intention? Had he been wrong? Was he killing his son with this?

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind Elrond, but he paid it no heed. Only when the voices grew louder and he could clearly hear Halbarad's agitated words echo across the yard, did Elrond acknowledge them.

"Do something! You just cannot stand here and do…nothing." Gesturing wildly, Halbarad stared at Gandalf, who still stood on the steps to the Last Homely House.

"And what shall I do, Master ranger?" Gandalf asked, leaning heavily on his staff. His face looked worried and older than usual, but he was calm.

"Well, I don't know, but definitely more than simply stand there." Some of the other rangers nodded in agreement. From the looks on their faces they were ready to act by themselves should not something happen soon.

Tension built in the air, while Aragorn struggled against the hold of the poison. Sweat stood on his brow, but his face was by now so pale that the tiny blue arteries around his eyes could be seen.

Legolas could take no more. He had watched his friend shivering, trembling and in pain. Had practically been shoved out of the way and out of Aragorn's care these last few days. He had felt useless and helpless.

Raising his voice to a level that was only reserved for orcs, he suddenly yelled at Gandalf, braids flying in the wind. "Are you a wizard, or are you not? Help him!"

Silence.

Then, with a surprised glimmer in his eyes and a red blush creeping up his cheeks, Gandalf tightened his hold on his staff and began to stomp through the snow towards Aragorn. He muttered something under his breath that sounded very much like 'impudent elfling', but he knelt down in the snow without another word.

Breathing heavily, Legolas ignored the stares the rangers sent him; Elladan and Elrohir had not even turned their heads at his outburst, so intent were they on the treatment of their brother.

A wave of relief surged through Legolas, but it was quickly followed by a new gust of ice cold worry. What had he been thinking? Aye, Gandalf was a wizard, but that did not mean that he had any Valar-like powers. He could not snip with his fingers and turn sunshine into rain or day into night…or poison into antidote. Surely, Gandalf would have done all in his might to help Aragorn; he had shown his allegiance to them all when he had risked his life to get the antidote. What could Gandalf do now, that he had not tried before?

Feeling new tears prick at his eyes, Legolas watched as Aragorn trashed in the hold of the elves, and too his utter shock he saw red blood on the otherwise pristine snow. With all the snow flying around and covering the clothing he could not tell where the blood was coming from, but he had no doubt that Aragorn was bleeding, not Elrond or Glorfindel.

_/Please, please Eru, if you can hear me now, let him live. Mandos, don't take him yet. There is so much I want to tell him. So many things I need to show him yet of Middle-earth. Please, help us./_

In that moment, Gandalf placed his hand on Aragorn's brow, as if to determine his temperature. But he did not remove his hand again, but let it rest there. With a deep intake of breath he closed his eyes, murmuring into his beard in a strange language that Legolas knew he had never heard before.

The twins stiffened and held their breath, while the rangers and the household staff did not move a muscle, afraid to destroy whatever Gandalf was doing. At first, nothing happened. Aragorn continued to twist and turn in the elves hold; the red on the snow grew and now Legolas could tell that it was the wound on his knee that must have reopened, for his trouser leg was caked with red snow clumps.

It was as if someone had punched Legolas into the stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs, when Aragorn suddenly stopped fighting and went completely limp in Elrond's and Glorfindel's arms. He did not move any longer, his head rolling to the side, eyes closed.

"Noo!" Without his conscious thought, his mouth had acted, and with a yell of fright Legolas ran towards Aragorn. "No, no no no no. That cannot be. What have you done?" He pushed Gandalf to the side so that he landed in the snow on his behind, steadying himself with his hands from falling down completely.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" Panicked, Legolas tilted Aragorn's head towards him, brushing stray strands of hair out of his face. Sweat mingled with snow covered most of it, and Legolas bedded Aragorn's head in his lap. "Estel?"

"Legolas, you cannot…" Elrond began, but Legolas cut him off.

"Cannot what? What can I not do?" His eyes were wet with tears that had not yet fallen.

"You cannot…" Elrond bit his lip, restraining himself in the last moment from saying 'save him'. Instead, he concluded with, "treat Mithrandir this way. He helped Estel through this phase, after all."

"What? Estel, he is not…" Staring down into the pale face, Legolas gently placed two fingers at Aragorn's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was unsteady and weak, but it was there.

"Thank Eru." Releasing a huge sigh, Legolas turned his head and gazed at Gandalf, who climbed to his feet.

"I am sorry, Mithrandir. I did not want to hurt you."

Brushing the snow from his robes, Gandalf shook his head. "Elflings." He turned and gazed at the twins, who had not moved yet, then at the rangers and the staff of the house. "Now, now. I'd say we get Aragorn something warm and dry. The worst should be over."

"Aye. First good thing I heard this evening." Glorfindel got his feet, but when he tried to take Aragorn from Legolas's arms, the elf would not let go.

"Legolas, you cannot carry him with your injured shoulder. Let me take him."

Legolas hesitated, hating the fact that his shoulder prevented him –again- from helping his friend when he needed him. He closed his eyes in defeat and nodded minutely.

Gently, Glorfindel took Aragorn's limp body out of Legolas's arms and with Elrond by his side, he carried him back into the house. As soon as Glorfindel crossed the threshold, the rangers turned as one and followed. Elrond had wrapped an arm around each of the twins' shoulders, guiding them into the house as well.

But Legolas…he did not move. And neither did Gandalf.

"What did you do, Mithrandir?" Staring at the door to the house, Legolas slowly stood up.

"Ah, some ancient word here, a spell there. Only old tricks. I had not imagined that it would work." Gandalf glanced at Legolas out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you think you could…" Legolas voice had risen an octave and Gandalf interrupted him promptly.

"Nay. I cannot." He reached out and tilted Legolas's head towards his own, so that he could look into the elf's eyes. With a clear and sad voice, Gandalf stated, "I cannot save him, tithen pen. I could help him this time, and maybe even the next, but I cannot save him."

Legolas said nothing, simply stood there in the snow, with the stars twinkling down from the dark sky. He blinked and tears rolled down his flawless cheeks, shining silver in the moonlight.

Would this nightmare never end?

To be continued…

**So, my ususal question: what do you think? Aragorn has survived another attack, but Gandalf says he cannot save him. For all of you who have been wondering, there will be a few more chapters, but originally 40 was my limit (okay, 30, but hey). I do not yet know how many more the story will require, but knowing all your wonderful reviews (hint hint) I might write a lot more.**

**Take care, mellyn:o)**


	40. 39 Go kiss an orc

**Beta: Chris is back from vacation, but I was too late to send her the chapter in time. So, not beta-ed, all mistakes are mine. **

**A/N: RL is sooooo stress that the moment that I have no time to reply to your wonderful reviews. I will do that as soon as life has slowed down at bit, which will be on Wednesday. Wheeeee!**

_/italics/ are thoughts_

_Elvish translations:_

Adan: Human

Hannon le: Thank you (I know that the correct form is probably 'le hannon', but I stick to the movie here)

Hir nin: My Lord

Ionnath nin: My sons

Naneth: Mother

Tithen pen: Little one

Ti tállbe orch: Go kiss an orc

--oOo--

"_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing,_

_Watch you smile while you are sleeping,_

_While you're far away and dreaming,_

_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender,_

_I could stay lost in this moment forever,_

_Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure."_

_(AeroSmith – I don't want to miss a thing)_

--oOo--

Chapter 39: Go kiss an orc

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. The rangers, after making sure that Aragorn was well cared for and the attack of the poison was truly over, retreated grudgingly to the guest quarters to rest. None of them liked leaving their Chieftain alone in such difficult times, but they also knew that Aragorn needed his family and closest friends now more then ever. They would not intrude on maybe his last four days with them.

It had been more difficult to convince Halbarad to leave Aragorn's room. Partly he felt responsible for the attack, for he had argued with Aragorn right before it had started. Gandalf had tried to make him understand that the poison would have attacked whether they had argued or not. But, the heart is a strange thing and sometimes the mind cannot overrule its feelings. In the end, Halbarad's own exhaustion had won out and he retreated to his room shortly before dawn, vowing to come back as soon as he woke.

Glorfindel, as much as he hated it right now, had to take care of his troops, and so he went to the soldiers' houses to see to the patrol rotas and defensive schemes. Although he wished to stay with Aragorn, or even more so with Elrond, he knew that his daily tasks would keep him busy and his thoughts would have few chances to stray.

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas stayed with Aragorn throughout the night, sleeping in turns and keeping an eye on him just in case. Gandalf and Elrond retreated into Elrond's study to discuss this latest brush with death; neither of them was very tired.

Gazing out at the waking day, Elrond sighed deeply. If one looked at this colourful dawn, one would never guess that only a few hours ago terror and dread had entered the valley once more. The milky sun smiled down from the sky, where only a few white clouds sailed lazily. It was going to be another crisp winter day, with much sunshine and no snow.

"Elrond, my old friend, come here and eat a bite. You have not eaten for too long." Gandalf poured a cup of hot tea, keeping his long beard out of the cup with one hand.

"I am not hungry, Mithrandir."

"Even an elf has to eat. Lets see what we have here." Gandalf lifted the napkin from the basket that stood on the tray a servant had brought them a few minutes ago. He leaned close to the basked and breathed in deeply.

"Ah, fresh baked honey rolls. My favourite." Gandalf took a plate and put two rolls on it, gazing at the tray in front of him. "Oh and here! Strawberry jam with little bits of cherry. Lovely."

Elrond could hear the clang of cutlery and a moment later the wizard exclaimed joyously, "And fresh made mintbutter! Delicous, Elrond, delicous. Oh and here we have the cheese. From happy cows if the smell is any indication. Mhmmm, some scrambled eggs, some nuts, some itsy bitsy bit of pepper, salt…"

And on and on Gandalf philosophised about the breakfast, until Elrond could no longer ignore him. Turning around, his hands clasped behind his back, Elrond lifted an eyebrow, ready to tell his old friend that he was truly not in the least bit hungry.

The sight that met his eyes let the words die on his tongue. There before him, seated in one of the most comfortable chairs, sat Gandalf, a plate of food in his hand. But that was not what stunned Elrond. No. That was the fact that Gandalf's plate was so laden with food that he had placed the honey rolls on the arms of the chair, together with his cup of tea, his cutlery and the jam spotted napkin.

Crumbles of bread hung in his beard, as well as some egg, and while Elrond watched, some strawberry jam joined the invitation an landed with a wet thud in the grey beard. Blinking, Elrond frowned, not sure what to say. Sometimes, Gandalf acted like an elfling.

"Is there any food left, Mithrandir?" he finally asked, having found his voice.

"I thought you are not hungry." A twinkle appeared in Gandalf's eyes, and Elrond realized that the wizard was only trying to light his mood –again. Shaking his head, Elrond went over to the tray and poured himself a cup of tea.

"I am not hungry. I was simply wondering about your eating habits. It seems the time with the Halflings has changed your appetite."

"Ah, you cannot compare Hobbit fare with this food here, Elrond. Hobbit breakfast is quite unique."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at that, but refrained from commenting. Instead, he eyed the tray for a moment and then took a honey roll. A sad smiled appeared on his face as he turned the roll over in his hand.

"When he was a child, Estel used to eat these on a daily basis. We feared he would grow as round as a Hobbit. I never figured out what is so special about them."

"Have you ever truly tried honey rolls, Elrond?" Unnoticed by Elrond, Gandalf had placed his plate on the desk and was studying him closely.

"Nay, not really. They are too sweet and sticky. I prefer decent food that sustains me, rather than food that is made for children or afternoon tea."

"Try it, Elrond. You will be surprised."

Grimacing slightly, Elrond lifted the roll to his nose and sniffed it, before he took a tiny bite. Chewing, he frowned, then took another, bigger bite. Elrond swallowed and drank a huge swallow of tea, before he replaced the roll on the tray.

"As I said, too sweet." He eyed the roll for another moment, smiling softly. "But I can see why Estel likes them that much. They have a unique flavour. Something homely."

Gandalf nodded, "Estel always had good taste." Elrond knew very well that the Istar was not only referring to honey rolls, but he was not yet ready to go there, and therefore he took up a plate and busied himself with putting eggs, bread and cheese on it.

They ate in companionable silence, and after the servant had come to clean up, Elrond rose to his feet. "I should go to the Healing Rooms. Perhaps I can find something to …well, you know what I mean."

Climbing to his feet, Gandalf followed Elrond to the door. "Elrond, you know that there is nothing we can do for him. He will die. You know that, don't you?"

"There is always something that can be done."

"Elrond, why don't you go and see how Estel fares, while I go to your storage room and see if I find something useful?"

Elrond hesitated only a second, but Gandalf knew his friend long enough to notice. "No, Mithrandir, the twins and Legolas are with him, they will call me if he wakes."

And with that said, Elrond opened the door and strode down the hall towards the wing that housed the healing rooms.

Gandalf shook his head and said softly, so softly that not even Elrond's keen hearing could hear him, "You cannot hide forever, Elrond."

Then, the wizard closed the study door behind him and followed Elrond towards the healing rooms.

--oOo--

"Do you think he will wake soon?" Elladan tilted his head back to look at Elrohir, who stood near the window, leafing through one of Aragorn's books. Legolas had fallen asleep next to Aragorn one the huge bed, one hand placed protectively on the man's chest.

"As soon as Estel wakes, I am sure." Elrohir said softly, eying the pair. During the whole night Legolas had not left Aragorn's side, only now at dawn succumbing to his sleepiness.

Elladan tilted his head to the other side, "It must be very uncomfortable for Legolas, the way his arms serves as a pillow. His shoulder will give him trouble if he does not wake soon."

Elrohir closed the book and placed it on the window frame. Tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear, he gazed at Legolas. The Prince had sat leaned against the headboard of the bed for most of the night, always keeping an eye on Aragorn, who had not woken yet. With his sleepiness increasing, Legolas had slid down on the bed inch by inch, until he had finally lain back completely. Still, even in sleep he had been unwilling to stop his vigilance and had placed a hand on top of Aragorn's chest, so that he would feel it the moment his condition changed. But, seeing that he had placed his left hand on Aragorn's chest, he had turned over in his sleep onto his belly, his other arm serving as pillow, and he had not felt the strain that he put on his still mending shoulder blade.

"I suppose we could roll him over." Elrohir said critically.

"You don't think that we should wake him? He could have breakfast with us." Elladan scratched the back of his nose and gave the door a longing look. All the excitement of the previous night and the long hours he had kept watch over his brother had made him hungry.

"Nay, let him sleep. Estel will have our hide when he wakes and learns that Legolas has not rested tonight. And by the way, Legolas can be as grumpy as Estel with too little sleep." Elrohir shrugged and then made his way over to the bed.

For a moment, he gazed fondly down at his brother. Colour had returned to the pale cheeks and had Elrohir not known better, he would have said that nothing was amiss with Aragorn. Aye, he was still paler than usual, there were still some traces of the bruises he had sustained, the gauntness in his features that spoke of recent illness and the small traces of pain that had left lines in the handsome face that had not been there before. But other than that…

Elrohir shook his head ruefully and reached out to caress Aragorn's cheek with the back of his fingers; he smiled when he felt the warmth of the skin. Valar, he had been so scared the night before. Aragorn shifted under the covers but did not wake. In response, Legolas murmured something in his sleep that sounded very much like 'Sh, all is well, Estel', before he, too, continued to sleep.

Elladan sidled up to his brother and nudged him with his shoulder. "Shall we?"

"Yes." Gently, Elladan and Elrohir grabbed Legolas's arm and ever so carefully they rolled the elf over onto his back, placing a soft pillow under his head and injured shoulder. Immediately Legolas hand began to search for Aragorn once more, and Elladan quickly placed it back on his human brother's chest, but in a much more comfortable angle. Legolas sighed in his sleep and slept on.

"Those two." Elrohir said. "Inseparable."

A painful lump built in Elladan's throat and he simply nodded. A moment later, Elrohir seemed to notice what he had said and the implications. Turning, he headed to the door. "I will get us something to eat." And then, he was gone.

_/Inseparable./_ Elladan mused. Not for much longer, he knew. Without the antidote, Aragorn would have to suffer through the next phase of the poison. Gandalf had told them that no one had lived longer than five weeks, that they had either died of the poison long before that or that they had ended it before that could have happened. It was not an encouraging thought that the other humans who had been poisoned had committed suicide to evade the later stages of this devilry.

Sighing, Elladan moved to the hearth and stoked the fire until it was blazing merrily. Outside, a bird greeted the rising sun and Elladan went to the window, opened the curtains and gazed out. It was a glorious morning and under any other circumstances, he was sure they had all entered into a snowball fight.

With a pang of sadness he glanced back at his sleeping brother. Next year, next winter, Aragorn would be…Furiously blinking away the tears that made his vision blurry, Elladan sat down on a chair and placed his head in his hands. Why did these things always have to happen in his family? First his naneth had sailed, then Arwen had left Imladris to live with their grandparents, and now Aragorn was going to die, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to prevent it from happening.

Time went by unnoticed. Elrohir brought them breakfast, the sun rose in the sky, lunch came and went, and still Aragorn slept. The sun was nearing the third hour when Elrohir woke from his nap on the window sill. He had not even noticed falling asleep, and so he was confused for a moment and disoriented. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around, noticing that Elladan had fallen asleep too and was dozing on the couch.

The fire in the hearth had burned down a little, but the room was still warm and cosy. Everything was as it should be. Then, what had woken him? His slightly bleary gaze travelled to the bed, and immediately he sat up straighter. Aragorn shifted under the covers, his head rolled from left to right and his breathing was faster than before. He was waking.

Elrohir rose from his seat and made his way to the bed, patting Elladan on the head to wake him without stopping in his tracks. Elladan grumbled something very uncomplimentary, but he, too, rose quickly when he noticed that Aragorn was waking.

He had not even reached the bed when Legolas suddenly sat up straight, as if someone had poked him with a sharp needle. He gazed around with small eyes, hair dishevelled and braids none-existent any longer. His clothing was crinkled and only now did the twins notice that in his haste the night before, Legolas had buttoned his tunic the wrong way.

Legolas' searching gaze fell on Aragorn, and he leaned down and gently tucked a stray strand of hair out of Aragorn's face. "He is waking up."

"Aye, he is." Elrohir sat down on the other side of the bed. "Estel, can you hear me?"

Aragorn mumbled something under his breath, very much the same way Elladan had done only moments prior.

Frowning, Legolas leaned even closer. "What was that?"

Shrugging, Elladan sat down too, careful to not sit on Aragorn. "I don't know. Sounded like a hibernating bear."

"I heard that, Dan." Came a sleepy, but indignant voice from the bed, making the elves jump.

"Estel? Are you awake?" Elrohir peeled some of the blankets back and looked at Aragorn's still closed eyes.

"No, I'm still asleep." Aragorn grumbled and tried to pull the covers back up.

A huge smile lit Elrohir's face, but he did not let go of the blankets. "Rise and shine, tithen pen. It is late, you slept long enough. Get up, or you won't be tired tonight."

Elladan grinned foolishly, feeling very relieved that Aragorn had finally woken and was coherent. As it seemed, the latest attack of the poison had no lasting effects. Slowly, he sneaked his hand under the covers, just like he had done when Aragorn had been a child, and began to tickle Aragorn's uninjured foot.

The reaction was immediate. With a small yell Aragorn jerked his foot back, snapping his eyes open and glaring at his brother.

"Awake now?" Elladan grinned smugly.

"Ti tállbe orch." Aragorn grumbled, still glaring at Elladan, who laughed loudly at his words. Elrohir sniggered and pressed a hand on his mouth, but when Aragorn glared at him too, he could not hold his laughter in any longer. Laughing, he slid down the bed only to land on the floor, still laughing.

Elladan soon joined his brother on the floor, no small amount to the fact that Aragorn shoved him down the bed with his good leg. But the glare quickly fled his face and he smiled softly, shaking his head at his brothers' antics. Still tired, he leaned back, resting his head on the soft pillow and gazed up at Legolas.

The elf was smiling softly down at him, sitting cross legged on the bed. "How do you feel, Estel?"

"I am tired, but otherwise I feel well." Aragorn yawned and rubbed his eyes, grimacing when he accidentally used his injured hand.

"And what about your knee? It started bleeding again during the attack and your father had to bandage it very tightly to stabilize it." Legolas sounded light, but there was a note of sincere concern in his voice.

Aragorn moved his injured leg experimentally. "I feel only a small amount of pain. Not much more than I felt yesterday before this all started. Well, it was yesterday, was it not?" Aragorn turned his head and looked out the window.

"Aye, it was yesterday. You slept all through the night and this morning. Tea will be served in an hour." Legolas said.

"I could do with something to eat." Aragorn rubbed his stomach. "I am starved."

"Food?" A voice from the floor said and a moment later Elladan peeked his head up from the side of the bed. "Did anyone say food?"

"You are worse than your average Hobbit, son of Elrond!" Legolas teased and in a fluent motion he pushed Elladan away from the bed so that he landed flat on his behind.

"Well, it is common knowledge that wise minds need to eat a lot. But why would a Wood-elf know that?" A devious smile lit up Elladan's face.

"So?" Legolas lifted an elegant eyebrow. "It is not me who sits on the floor on his behind like some stray dwarf."

"Why you…" Elladan jumped to his feet, dragging a still snickering Elrohir with him. He had changed into full bickering-battle mode.

"Ladies, ladies. Calm down, will you?" Aragorn said, looking absolutely bored by the whole situation. But none of the elves missed the mirth in his eyes.

"Ladies?" Elladan huffed. "That is almost as bad as being called dwarf. Estel that means war." And with that said Elladan climbed onto the bed, straddling Aragorn who lay on his back. Ever mindful of his brother's injuries, Elladan looked down at the by now grinning human.

"Seeing that I cannot hurt you for your insolence, adan, I will have to resort to other means of making you pay." Such an evil smile came over Elladan that Legolas felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Without looking away from Aragorn, Elladan commanded loudly, "Ro, bring me the hairbrush."

"No! Dan, have mercy!" Aragorn yelled in mock fear and when Elrohir reached the bedside and presented the hairbrush to Elladan as one would hand over a sword, Aragorn broke down in helpless laughter.

For some glorious minutes the brothers and Legolas battled for power over the brush of doom, forgetting all the cares they had, simply happy to be together and relatively well. Their laughter floated down the corridor and everyone who passed by and heard it smiled and felt his heart lighten.

It was Gandalf who brought them the tea, interrupting their bickering. By now the room was looking more like a battlefield than a room: Pillows lay strewn across the floor, some downs floated through the air, books and other utensils had fallen to the ground, a chair had been knocked over and the carpets were crinkled.

"Ah, I see you are finally awake, Estel. It was about time." Placing the tray he carried on the couch because a pillow had landed on the desk and looked as if it would burst open and spill downs all around the room any second, Gandalf eyed Aragorn up and down.

"You look much rested. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, Mithrandir. Perhaps a bit hungry and sore, but otherwise alright." Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, suppressing the wince it caused because his shoulder still ached from the arrow he had taken. Not to mention that his whole body was sore and his muscles ached from the spasms yesterday. Still, he felt relatively good and the bickering and laughter had helped him immensely.

Combing his fingers through his beard, Gandalf peered at Aragorn for a moment longer, before he gestured at the twins. Elladan was picking downs out of Elrohir's hair while Elrohir straightened Elladan's braids.

"Why don't you go and tell your father that Estel is awake? And Legolas, you can go and tell Halbarad. That poor ranger is practically biting his nails while you four play pillow-catch-me." The wizard frowned and made a shooing motion with his hands.

The twins winked at each other before they left the room, but not after patting Aragorn on the arm, telling him how glad they were that he was alright. Legolas hesitated, but when Gandalf lifted his chin a fraction and gave him a pointed look, he turned towards the door.

"Alright, Mithrandir, have it your way. But I will be back soon." With that he left the room and closed the door softly behind him.

"Ah, blessed silence." Gandalf poured a cup of tea which he handed to Aragorn, who sat up in the bed and smoothed the numerous covers and blankets.

"Thank you." Sniffing the tea, Aragorn's eyes widened. "No healing tea?"

Pulling a chair up to the bed and sitting down heavily, Gandalf shook his head. "I though you needed something refreshing after your night."

Aragorn smiled his thanks at the wizard and then tasted the mint-lemon tea (1). It was sweet and sour at the same time, and to Aragorn's dry throat it tasted delicious.

"So, Estel, how do you really feel this fine afternoon? And don't tell me you feel alright." A knowing smile flittered across Gandalf's face and Aragorn knew that he had no chance to lie.

Sighing, he rotated his head on his shoulders. "I feel sore all over, but especially my calves hurt. As if a troll stood on them. My ribs hurt a bit more than yesterday, as do my various other injuries, but all in all I feel good."

Aragorn lifted his head and locked his eyes with Gandalf. "Mithrandir, I want to thank you for what you have done to help me. Legolas told me."

"No thanks needed, young one. But it was difficult to help you." Gandalf looked at him seriously, and Aragorn could see the strange shimmer in his eyes that only Gandalf had; or wizards, but Aragorn had not met another wizard so far.

"Is that why you wanted to talk to me in private, Mithrandir?"

"Aye. I want to make sure that there are no misunderstandings between us, Aragorn."

Aragorn did not miss the use of his real name, and he sighed inwardly. Legolas had told him what Gandalf had told him the previous night. Having a feeling that this conversation was going into the same direction, Aragorn nodded and said, "I know that you granted me a small reprieve, Mithrandir. Not more and not less. I am grateful that you helped me, but I know that you cannot save me."

For a moment, Gandalf looked baffled in the face of so much seriousness in one so young, but then he leaned back in his chair and his gaze softened. "You have grown, Aragorn."

"I have." A sad smile lit Aragorn's face. "The most in the last weeks."

A shuddering sigh left the wizards lips and he looked away for a moment before he gazed at Aragorn. "I am so sorry, my friend, that even I cannot help you."

"Perhaps it is not meant to be." Shrugging, Aragorn turned his eyes on the closed door. "I only wished they would not hurt that much."

"They will overcome it. Eventually."

"Maybe. I hope so."

Silence settled in the room while Aragorn sipped his tea. After a few minutes Gandalf began to fidget in his seat. With a small smile Aragorn put the cup down and gestured at the tray of food. "Mithrandir, would you be so kind and hand me some of those honey rolls I smell?"

"Huh? Oh, of course, of course." Gandalf stood up and went over to the tray. He was halfway there when Aragorn's amused voiced reached his ears. "And Gandalf?"

"Yes?" The wizard turned questioning eyes on the ranger.

"Take out that pipe of yours and start smoking. Your fidgeting gets on my nerves."

Gandalf laughed out loud at that, but once he had handed Aragorn a plate laden with rolls, butter, jam and some fruits, he sat down in the chair and lit his pipe. He inhaled deeply and a satisfied smile formed on his face.

Shaking his head in amusement at the wizard's antics, Aragorn inhaled deeply too, vowing to search for his own pipe as soon as he was finished with eating.

Lord Elrond and the twins returned to the room soon after Gandalf had lit his pipe, and although Elrond sent him numerous pointed looks, he kept smoking. He winked at Aragorn when Elladan opened one of the windows and the twins stayed close to it, breathing in the fresh air. From now and then the twins would wave their hands through the air, so as if to encourage the thick blue smoke to drift out into the garden.

Elrond was overjoyed to see Aragorn awake. He examined him from head to foot, declaring that he had not taken any new injuries and that his sore muscles would heal soon. Still, he ordered some massage and salves for his legs; it would help with the pain and make the muscles supple. Rather soon Elrond excused himself, saying he had a lot to do in the healing wing, but he promised to come back before supper to check on Aragorn again.

Aragorn was a bit surprised at his father's short stay, but he mused that Elrond was probably searching for another antidote and would not rest ere he had found something. In Aragorn's opinion, his father would spend his time better here with him, but he said nothing and instead smiled bravely when the door closed behind Elrond.

True to his word, Legolas returned only half an hour later, Halbarad in tow. Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and Halbarad spent the rest of the afternoon talking and enjoying the company of each other. Elladan and Elrohir had retired to their rooms to catch up on some sleep – on Elrond's order.

When it was time for supper Halbarad and Gandalf left so that Aragorn could freshen himself up, but Legolas stayed to help his friend, should he need it. The rangers would dine with them tonight, for the men felt the need to spend some time with their Chieftain.

Legolas was lying on the bed when Aragorn called out of the adjoining bathing chamber, "Legolas, would you please see if there is a blue tunic in the shelf to your left? It has a grey embroidery at the sleeves."

"Sure." Legolas found the tunic in the shelf, handing it to Aragorn when he exited the bathing chamber some minutes later.

"Hannon le, Legolas." Donning the tunic, Aragorn hobbled over to the mirror to take a look at his reflection. He grimaced when he saw his pale skin and the dark rings under his eyes. He looked thin and younger than his age.

"Why this tunic, Estel? It looks as if it is very old." Legolas gazed at the tunic sceptically. It was true, the tunic looked used and as if it had been worn often.

Aragorn smoothed the front of the tunic and looked at Legolas. "It was a gift when I turned of age. The blue stands for Imladris and the grey for the Dunedain. I…I felt it was appropriate attire for tonight." Aragorn shrugged. "And, I like it. I always feel…at home when I wear it, although I cannot explain why."

What Aragorn did not tell Legolas was, that this tunic had belonged to his human father, Arathorn, and that whenever Aragorn felt extremely lonely or confused, he wore this tunic to remind him of who he was and that -somewhere in Mandos's Halls- his human family waited for him.

Together with Legolas Aragorn made his way down to the dining hall; now that the rangers were eating with them, as well as Gandalf, Glorfindel and Erestor, the dining room that they had used since they had returned to Imladris would be too small.

The meal in itself was a subdued affair. Glorfindel and Erestor said practically nothing at all the whole evening, while Elrond tried to engage the rangers into small talk, as hospitality required. The twins and Legolas exchanged helpless looks but kept to themselves, and Gandalf acted as if nothing was amiss.

Aragorn had not anticipated that a meal with his rangers would be that strained. The men kept shooting him curious and pitiful glances every time they thought he would not notice. Halbarad answered every of Lord Elrond's numerous questions, asking some of his own and forced himself to _not _look in Aragorn's direction too often. All in all, Aragorn was glad when the meal was over and he could respectfully decline the invitation to come to the Hall of Fire for some wine and story telling with the excuse that he was tired and his injured knee needed to be elevated a bit more to let the swelling decrease.

"As you wish, Estel. I will be up shortly with the salve for the massage." Elrond said, standing at the bottom of the stairs that led to the family wing, while Glorfindel and Erestor led the Dunedain towards the Hall of Fire.

"I can do that, my Lord." Legolas spoke up, and from the look on his face he hoped the Elrond would agree.

"The massage has to be done methodically and with utmost care. Are you sure you are up to that, Legolas?" Elrond knew that the massage would more like than not cause Aragorn more pain, and he wanted to make sure that Legolas understood what it was he was offering.

"I am. And Estel can tell me what I need to do."

After a moment, Elrond nodded his head in agreement. "I will send a servant with the salve. It has to be warmed to achieve the desired affect on the muscles."

"Thank you, hir nin." Legolas bowed briefly before he led Aragorn up the stairs. Gazing after them, Elrond breathed in deeply. Elladan and Elrohir stood at his side, and he gave them a long look. "Leave them alone for a few hours, ionnath nin. I think they need the time to themselves."

"Aye, Ada." The twins said and in unison they turned and followed the rangers into the Hall of Fire.

Elrond stood for a moment longer at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at the retreating back of his foster son. Just when Legolas and Aragorn disappeared from his sight, he could hear Elladan's voice ask his brother, "Ro, I am sure Erestor will tell the rangers the old story about the snake and the horse. What say you, shall we tell them the tale how a five-year old Estel managed to not only fall into the hugest puddle of mud he could find, but also drag Glorfindel into it as well?"

Smiling softly, Elrond turned and made his way down the corridor into the direction of the healing wing. Glorfindel would never live it down if the twins told _that_ particular tale. Thinking of it, the twins would not survive it either… if Glorfindel ever laid his hands on them.

--oOo--

"Legolas, you do not have to do that, I can do it myself." Aragorn sat down heavily on his bed and bent over to unlace his indoor boots. He held his breath as his broken ribs gave him some trouble, and after only a few moments he had to sit up straight again to ease the pain.

"No, let me help you." Legolas made his way over to the bed after placing another log on the fire. The room was already warmed nicely, but after what had happened the day before, Legolas felt a need to see the fire burning brightly.

Kneeling down, Legolas began to unlace the leather boots and Aragorn refrained from protesting. This time.

"Estel, lay down and I will massage the salve into your calves to ease the muscles."

Gingerly, Aragorn laid down on his bed, resting his head in his arms. For Legolas to work efficiently he lay down on his stomach, using a pillow to cushion his ribs and knee. The treatment of his legs would hurt as it was, there was no need to make his other numerous injures ache as well.

A servant brought the salve only a few minutes later, and after rolling up the sleeves of his tunic Legolas sat down on the bed. "I said I would do this for you, Estel, but…where do I start?"

Once more Aragorn tried to change his friend's opinion. He knew that Legolas hated it if he had to cause him pain, and he was not sure whether Legolas really wanted to do this. "Legolas, I appreciate your offer, but ada can do it later, or I can do it."

"Estel, I am going to do this. Let me pay you back for the shoulder massage." Aragorn could hear the grin that surely was on Legolas's face, and he lifted his head to look his friend in the eye. What was Legolas up to? This was not the kind of reply he had anticipated.

Aragorn studied Legolas's face; he could see all the emotions of dread, sadness and pain he had known he would see, but deep in those blue eyes were some other emotions. Was that…smugness?

"So, where do I start?" Legolas tucked a strand of blond hair behind his pointed ear and put his right forefinger experimentally into the jar of salve. The ointment had a slightly green colour and smelled very much like cucumber and parsley.

Sighing and giving in, Aragorn bedded his head once more on his crossed arms. His voice was muffled by the pillows, but Legolas had no problem hearing him.

"First, spread a hazelnut big portion of the slave between the palms of your hand. Then you begin to rub it into my calves, gently, mind you. Work from knee to ankle and back up, before you begin to massage it into the skin with small, circling movements."

The grin on Legolas face widened, but Aragorn could not see it. "Well, I would do that, but you have to undress first."

Silence.

Then, Aragorn groaned loudly. "I knew you were up to something, Legolas. I simply knew you would have your revenge."

"Aye. I always have my revenge." Legolas laughed musically as Aragorn sat up slowly and began to undo his pants. The tight trousers would not allow to be shoved up over his knee, especially not with the numerous bandages that were wrapped around his knee.

Quickly laying down again, Aragorn was glad when Legolas put a blanket over his legs, but he could still hear Legolas sniggering. "Ah Estel what would the maidens say if they saw you thus unclothed?"

"Are you going to begin now, or shall I do it myself after all?" Aragorn grumbled good naturally, and after another bout of laughter Legolas did as Aragorn had instructed. Although he was gentle, the massage hurt Aragorn, and so they did not speak much.

Later, they sat before the fire, Aragorn's leg elevated on a small stool. For Legolas's sake Aragorn refrained from smoking, although he really would have liked to smell the strong and sweet smoke right now. They talked about this and that and nothing at all, and it was almost midnight when Legolas turned their conversation to more serious matters.

"Estel?"

"Mhmmmm?" Aragorn had rested his head on the back of his chair, his eyes closed.

"What are you going to do now?" Legolas voice was soft, almost imperceptible over the crackling of the flames.

Aragorn had no difficulty knowing what it was his friend was talking about, but he took a moment to think about his answer. Without opening his eyes, he answered, "I don't know."

"But, there must be something we can do."

Aragorn took a deep breath, opened his eyes and looked at Legolas. The elf sat on the edge of his seat, hands clasped in his lap in an obvious effort to stop them from fidgeting.

"Legolas, I fear there is nothing we can do this time. You know that Dan, Ro and I had come to an understanding regarding our last days together. Now that they are saved, I think I will still stick to that plan." Aragorn shrugged, but his eyes were serious.

"You are not even trying to fight?" Instead of sounding angry, Legolas sounded sad and…defeated.

"It is not me who stops fighting, Legolas, but my body. And, I have learned that there are some battles that cannot be won by fighting."

To Aragorn's dismay, Legolas bent his head and hid his face in his hands. His voice sounded tearful, "I do not want to lose you, mellon nin."

"Oh, Legolas." Aragorn stood up and sat down on the armrest of Legolas's chair. With his hand he leaned Legolas's head against his side, needing the contact. "I do not want to leave you, either, my friend."

A sob escaped Legolas's lips and Aragorn gently stroked his long hair. "Legolas, mellon nin,…"

Sobbing louder, Legolas leaned into Aragorn's touch and a moment later he was crying outright. So they sat for a long time, comforting each other. They would be strong during the days, but the nights were too dark and silent to act brave.

To be continued…

(1) I shamelessly assumed that there were such things as lemons in Middle-earth. :-)

**How can you think of an unclothed ranger and what you would do with him, when poor Aragorn hurts so badly+grin+**

**Seeing that I love reviews and feed my Muse with them, I ask you kindly to review. Hope you liked that chapter!**


	41. 40 A Fight Between Rangers and Elves

**Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translations:_

Elleth: Elf maidens

Hannon le: Thank you

Iston, mellon nin: I know, my friend

--oOo--

_"Don't take life so serious, it's not like you're getting out alive." _

_(Unknown)_

--oOo--

Chapter 40: A Fight between Rangers and Elves

Aragorn spent the next day resting and recuperating from the previous ordeal. Outside he represented a calmness that was almost unnatural, but inside he felt shaken and unstable. His heart was uneasy and would not rest, although his mind told him that there was nothing else he could do. Or, was there? Was there truly nothing he could do to prevent his horrible fate?

His brothers and Legolas kept him company during the day and they were loath to leave him even during the night. It took all of Aragorn's convincing power and handsome smile to get them to rest at all – on the couch in his room and the chairs in front of the hearth. But, they slept.

Sleep came not easily to Aragorn, and even long after midnight he lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His injuries were what kept him awake, but his thoughts would let him find no rest. In the dark of the night, when silence reigned and the nightmares ruled, they came and haunted him.

At first they were jumbled and showed him many different things at once. He tried to suppress them, think of other things, better things, but the more he tried to chase them away, the more persistent they became, until in the end he closed his tired eyes and let them wash over him. Some of the images he saw showed him situations from his childhood and youth, others things he was sure he had never seen before. Grassy plains with wild horses, huge, snow capped mountains with sparkling blue lakes, the rolling sea with white spray on the waves, distant lands that seemed to be made of red sand, silver trees that could only belong to the forest of Lorien. And Aragorn had never seen the land of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.

Aragorn was not entirely sure if the things he saw were visions of his future, a future that would never be. Frustration gripped him then and he began to wonder why the gift of the Numenorians would wake now that he had no longer a future. He had so hoped to one day see all these places. Or, did these visions try to tell him that there was still a way to save himself? That all was not lost yet?

The night after he had woken from the attack was not a refreshing one, and when Aragorn finally succumbed to his exhaustion a few hours before dawn, he had come to a decision. Maybe he had only three days left, maybe less. But, he would not spent these days sulking in his room, recuperating. Because, what in the name of the Valar was he recuperating for, if he was meant to die anyway? No, he would follow through on the original plan that he and his brothers had agreed on before they had found the antidote.

It was a comforting thought, in a way.

--oOo--

"Elladan, would you hand me the plate of fruits, please?" Legolas nodded in the direction of the dried fruits, and obediently Elladan handed it over.

"Thank you."

Elladan nodded and then turned back to his own breakfast. The twins and Legolas had woken at dawn, as was their wont, and leaving the room quietly so as not to wake the still slumbering Aragorn, they had made their way to their own rooms to wash, change into fresh clothing and get something to eat.

Elrond had greeted them, but he had told them he were not hungry and had left for his study, claiming there were some important things to do. For a moment the twins had looked as if they would follow their father, but in the end they decided that whatever it was that was going on, they would learn of it soon enough. Seeing that Gandalf was not in the dining room, they assumed he was probably still asleep.

Biting half-heartedly into his slice of bread, Legolas scrutinized the twins from under his eyelashes. Although they had slept during the night, both looked a bit worse for the wear. There were dark circles under their eyes, and they had not taken the time to braid their hair the way they usually did; instead, both wore their hair in simple braids.

Not for a minute did Legolas muse about his own look. He probably looked even worse than the twins, having spent the night in a very uncomfortable position in one of the chairs. Sighing, Legolas vowed to think up something to lighten the brothers' mood. It would not do for them to sulk during Aragorn's last days.

Aye, after his conversation with Aragorn, Legolas had come to the decision that he would also stick to the plan. He was not yet ready to accept defeat, but he would not make Aragorn's days any more difficult than they would be. And if that meant to make these two thick headed elves to smile a bit, then he would think of something.

And Legolas slowly began to fear that the twins' guilty conscience was slowly killing them. They felt guilty for drinking the antidote and not forcing their foster brother to save himself. But Legolas knew they were also feeling guilty for being happy to be alive. It was a feeling he knew they experienced, although they had not said so. Everyone who survived a terrible situation felt that way and then felt guilty because of it, although there was no reason to do so.

More than once the word 'fading' had flittered through Legolas's mind, and after what he saw today, most of all the absence of Lord Elrond, made him fear that, should Aragorn die, the Peredhel would not survive him long. They would either sail, or fade.

Shaking his head at his own gloomy thoughts, Legolas sighed inwardly. He would have to think of something rather quickly, given the time frame in which this devilry of poison worked. He was just about to pop some fruits into his mouth, when the door to the dining room opened and Aragorn walked in.

"Good morning." Aragorn grinned broadly, using only one of his crutches to walk, as his knee had much improved. He looked tired and battered, too thin and pale, but the grin on his face was so radiant that the twins and Legolas stared at him open mouthed.

Still smiling, Aragorn hobbled around the table. When he passed by Legolas, he sneaked his free hand from behind his back, and without warning he shoved a handful of snow that he had collected earlier down Legolas's tunic.

"Yeee!" The Prince jumped to his feet, clawing at his tunic, jumping from foot to foot and desperately trying to get the icy snow out of his clothing.

For a moment, the twins sat dumbstruck, watching with wide eyes, before they slowly, evilly, began to smirk, then giggle, then laugh outright.

Aragorn sat down next to Legolas's now empty chair and helped himself to scrambled eggs and bread, ignoring the still dancing prince. He was taking a sip of cherry tea when Legolas sat down again. The elf's voice was a deadly hiss, "You will pay for that Adan. This means war."

"Oh come now, Legolas. I was simply getting my revenge for the pants incident." Aragorn smiled, watching his brothers out of the corner of his eye.

"Pants incident?" Elladan and Elrohir exchanged confused glances, but before Aragorn could respond, Legolas spoke up, "But that was _my_ revenge for the tunic incident."

"As I recall it, I merely suggested you take the tunic off. It was Ro here who said you were the bearer of the Trophy of Prissiness." Aragorn smiled sweetly at Legolas, who lifted an eyebrow and turned his deadly glare to Elrohir.

"Right, Estel. It seems, we are even now. But," Legolas lifted a finger and pointed it at Elrohir, "we two have an issue to settle, my friend."

"We? It was Dan who said that all the elleth would scream, drool and faint, if I remember correctly." Elrohir pointed an accusing finger at his brother, who pushed it away in annoyance.

"I was only answering your question, brother."

"It was a rhetorical question."

"But you laughed." Elladan groaned.

"You, too." Elrohir countered, and soon the twins were bickering among themselves.

Aragorn grinned and shook his head. "Elflings."

Immediately, the bickering stopped and the twins turned in unison. "What was that, Estel?"

"I think he called you elflings," Legolas provided helpfully, feeling that Aragorn had just helped him to find a solution to his problem with the twins.

"Estel, you may be our brother and we love you dearly, but…this means war." Elladan tried to sound stern, but the mischievous glimmer in his eyes gave him away.

"Mh, that means Legolas has declared war against me, as have you two. That is not fair, I need an ally." Aragorn looked around the room just as Gandalf opened the door and walked in.

"Ah, Mithrandir, you have perfect timing." Aragorn smiled one of his truly calculating smiles, making Gandalf sigh inwardly and at the same time cringe in dread. He knew that he had just signed his doom.

--oOo--

"Ha, you have to be faster, Estel, if you want to hit me!" Legolas yelled and at the same time threw a snowball of his own into the general direction of Aragorn, who hid behind a tree.

"You just wait!" Aragorn sallied back and threw a snowball at Elladan, hitting him square on the chest.

"Hey!" Glaring at Elrohir who laughed at Aragorn's hit, Elladan took a handful of soft snow and smeared it right into Elrohir's laughing face.

Elrohir sputtered and choked, wiping the wet snow out of his eyes. "Oh, you should not have done that, brother," he growled, before he threw himself at Elladan, who jumped to his feet and fled.

"Estel, Legolas, help me!" But by now Elladan was giggling so madly that Elrohir had no trouble catching him. He tackled him to the ground and soon Elladan's face was as wet as Elrohir's.

After they had declared war, the twins had suggested to go out and settle it there, and Aragorn and Legolas had agreed, taking a protesting Gandalf with them. The ensuing snow fight served to release all their pent up emotions, and shortly after the start the twins lost their reservations concerning throwing snowballs at one of the Maia. After an extremely big snowball had hit Gandalf right on top of his nose, he had grumbling declared defeat and retreated onto the porch of the Last Homely House, deciding to play referee instead of target.

With the twins battling among themselves, Aragorn and Legolas were the only ones left, and Legolas mercilessly took advantage of it. One snowball after the other hit the tree Aragorn was hiding behind. His still mending shoulder blade was not bothering him in the least as he simply threw the snowballs with his other arm.

Aragorn on the other hand had more problems with his injuries, but he fought bravely and had as of yet not been hit that often. The fact that the elves were able to walk on the snow made his fight not any easier, but being a ranger had its advantages too.

Hiding behind a tree quickly when one of Legolas's missiles flew very close past his face, Aragorn glanced back at the house. Had he not seen some shadows behind the windows? Peering more closely, he could just make out the tall shapes of…his rangers. Grinning evilly, he shouted loudly, "Rangers of the North! Dunedain! Your Chieftain calls for aid!"

A moment later Halbarad's barking laughter filled the air and with a battle cry, the rangers sped down the steps and joined the battle.

"Hey, that is unfair!" Legolas called, before he sprinted behind a stone pillar to evade the onslaught of snowballs. "Dan, Ro! Help me!"

Laughing, the twins hastened to his aid, and soon the air was filled with flying snowballs and hurled oaths. On the porch, Gandalf was joined by Glorfindel and Erestor and even some of the household staff watched the spectacle. The only one who was missing was Elrond.

The six humans fought bravely, but in the end they had no chance against the three sure-footed elves. It was Legolas who cornered Aragorn, having ducked under the rangers' defences with ease. He stood a step away from Aragorn, a snowball in his lifted hand.

"Do you surrender, human?"

Seeing that he had no way of escape and that he would not get far anyway as his crutch was buried somewhere in the snow, having fallen from his hand in the battle, Aragorn suppressed his laughter and lifted his chin.

"You would hurt an unarmed man, elf?"

A huge smile spread over Legolas's face. "Aye." He deadpanned.

Legolas lifted his hand a bit higher. But before he could throw the snowball, a rough voice spoke up from behind him, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Master elf."

Turning slowly, Legolas looked at Halbarad, who stood behind him, a snowball in each hand. Turning his gaze back to Aragorn, Legolas demanded, "Tell your man to put down his weapons and surrender, Estel. I will not harm him."

Out of the corner of his eye Aragorn could see another of the rangers sneak up on Legolas, and so he shook his head. "A ranger never surrenders. We win or we die." Legolas eyes widened at that.

"Well, Estel, this time I will win." Quicker than anyone could have acted, Legolas drew his arm back and threw the snowball at the ranger who had sneaked up on him. In the same fluid motion he bent down to form a new snowball. But…Halbarad was faster. With a dull thud his two missiles hit Legolas on the back of his head.

Aragorn could not help the laughter that rose in his throat, and soon he was sitting in the snow, laughing helplessly. Legolas and the other rangers soon joined the laughter, and it was Halbarad who calmed down first.

Stemming his arm in his sides, he looked the now snowy Legolas up and down.

"Rangers win, elves lose."

--oOo--

Gandalf leaned back in his chair and took a sip from the warm tea he had poured himself. His eyes travelled across the paper covered tables, the books that littered the ground, the scrolls of parchment that lay on the other chair, the couch and even the broad windowsill, before they came to rest on the Lord of Imladris.

Elrond sat at his desk, an old tome in front of him. The pages were already yellowed and had tears and crinkles in them from constant use. Sun and moisture had aged the book before its time, and Gandalf asked himself how many times Elrond had browsed through this particular book since this nightmare had started.

Taking another sip from his tea and warming his cold fingers at the cup, Gandalf waited for Elrond to speak. When this did not seem likely, Gandalf sighed inwardly. He had known that his old friend was burying himself in his work, but he had not anticipated that his fear to see and confront the truth about Aragorn's condition would run so deep.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Your sons and the Prince fought the rangers today."

Elrond lifted his head briefly to acknowledge the words, but he said nothing. Wrinkling his nose, Gandalf continued, "Aye, it was the most fierce snowball fight I have ever seen. The rangers were hard pressed, but in the end young Master Halbarad managed to beat the Prince. They declared a truce after that, but I am sure Legolas will come up with something to get his revenge."

"Mhm." Was all that Elrond said.

In a fit of frustration, Gandalf put his cup down on a side table, making the tea spill over the edges, before he rose to his impressible height. The ceiling seemed to darken around him, the shadow grew and became almost black, while the very air suddenly hissed with tension.

"Do not ignore what lies before your eyes, Eärendilion." Gandalf's said. "You have never hid before a battle, old friend, so do not close your heart now to maybe the hardest battle of your life!"

Elrond stared at the wizard, wide-eyed and speechless. The book lay forgotten on the desk in front of him. "Mithrandir, I…" But he found no words to say, so stunned was he. Rarely had he seen the wizard lose his temper, and even more seldom had Gandalf used any magic in front of him or even in the valley of Imladris.

A sad smiled turned up Gandalf's lips, and slowly the light in the room turned back to normal. The fire in the hearth suddenly burned brighter than before, and Elrond had the impression that it was warmer than it had been moments before.

"I know you hurt, Elrond. But Estel does, too. Go to him, stay with him in these dark times. He needs you now, and it does not do to confine yourself to your rooms to evade the pain his sight causes you."

Slowly, Elrond nodded. "I fear what his death will do to us. To me."

"Iston, mellon nin." Gandalf made his way over to the desk and stood in front of it, towering over the now small looking elven Lord. "But do you not think that keeping him company in his last days would make it easier for you two? That boy loves you, Elrond."

"I know, Mithrandir, for he holds my heart as well." Elrond's gaze became misty, and Gandalf decided that he had succeeded in delivering his message.

"I will get something to eat" He turned to the door, but before he left, he turned around once more. "Do not wait too long, Elrond."

And with that he left the room and Elrond to his thoughts.

--oOo--

This day, the evening meal was a happy affair. Once more the rangers shared their meal, and they talked merrily about the defeat of Legolas and the elves in general, congratulating Halbarad on his victory. The twins and Legolas endured the teasing without complaint, for the smile on Aragorn's face was enough to warm their hearts; what was a little teasing compared to that joyous look on his face?

Aragorn for his part was not only smiling because of the retelling of the snowball fight, which got more adventurous with every retellingNo, he smiled because his foster father had not only joined them for the meal, but was actually grinning and listening with rapt attention to the story. It eased Aragorn's heart that Elrond seemed to have accepted that there was nothing he could do to save him and had decided to enjoy his last days with his son.

Oh, from the smug look on Gandalf's face and the wink the wizard had given him when Elrond had entered the dining hall, Aragorn had no doubt that it was the wizard's doing that his father was here this evening. And he was grateful that Gandalf had managed to break down the emotional walls that Elrond had created after the attack of the poison.

After the meal they retreated into the Hall of Fire and enjoyed an evening with ancient tales and songs. Even Halbarad let himself be talked into singing a song. Unfortunately for him, he chose a rather bawdy one and halfway through it Elrond's fierce look stopped him. Much to the amusement of Aragorn and the other rangers.

When the hour became late, the Hall emptied as everyone retired to their private chambers. Aragorn could hear Halbarad's voice from down the hall when he made his way up the stairs to his room and smiled.

"It was a perfectly normal song!"

Another ranger answered, but Aragorn could not make out the words. Judging by the chorus of laughter he heard, it had not been something to defend Halbarad's choice of song.

The twins would sleep in their own rooms this night, as would Legolas – after the persistent declaration from Aragorn that he did not want to see their faces till the next morning. Aragorn truly wanted them to rest for the night, for despite them being elves, they looked tired and exhausted. A night full of sleep in comfortable beds instead of chairs would do them some good.

Tired himself after a day full of snowball fights, Aragorn quickly washed and climbed into his bed, snuggling under the covers. An hour candle burned in one corner of the room, adding to the light of the low burning hearth. The light would help him rest, Aragorn knew, and in an hour or two the small hour candle would extinguish itself.

His numerous injuries throbbed, but the pain was not strong and he could ignore it. Placing his uninjured arm under his head as a pillow, Aragorn sighed deeply and closed his eyes. It had been a good day, full of laughter and happiness. One could have almost thought that nothing was amiss at all.

Time passed slowly, and when the small candle died with a soft spluttering sound two hours later, Aragorn was still wide awake. The moon stood high in the sky, its silver light shining into his room through the open curtains, and Aragorn could not tear his gaze away from it.

Ithil. The tale his brothers had told him as a child and only some weeks ago came to his mind, and he smiled softly. He would miss his brothers greatly, he knew. And Legolas…the two of them had gone through thick and thin, and it was a disquieting thought that Legolas would have to go on alone now. But Aragorn was sure that Legolas would find a way. He had a strong will and would not fade from grief. No, if it came down to that, Legolas would sail, Aragorn was sure of it.

The thought saddened him even more. Sail to the West, before his time. It was not fair towards Legolas, his friends, or King Thranduil. Had Legolas's father not warned him about befriending a human? About the grief he would have to experience one day? Well, no one had thought it would be that soon.

And his family: Elladan, Elrohir and his father. He would leave them alone. His brothers and Elrond had never told him, but deep in his heart Aragorn knew that at least Elrond had long ago made the decision to sail West before Aragorn died. Aragorn felt as if he would betray his father by dying and he felt guilty, although he new that was a foolish thought.

What the twins would do he did not know, but he hoped that the grief they would surely experience would not break their spirits. Perhaps the Lady Galadriel would intervene and force the twins to come to Lothlorien for a while. Or at least till they had healed sufficiently. And Arwen… No, that was not a path he was ready to go. Not yet.

Sighing, Aragorn slowly got up from the bed. He knew that he would probably find no rest tonight. Wrapping a soft blanket around his shoulders to keep warm, he made his way over to his desk and rummaged through the things that sat atop of it. Finding the item he had been looking for, he then pulled out a small leather pouch.

Filling his pipe and lighting it, he inhaled the smoke deeply. It was relaxing and comforting. Although it was bitter cold, Aragorn silently opened one of the balcony doors and stepped outside. The cold made him shiver, but the blanket would keep him warm, and he did not intend to stay out long. For a few minutes, not longer.

Taking another puff on his pipe, Aragorn let his gaze travel across the snowy valley, once more admiring the beauty of the elven realm. The star light reflected on the snow and the rivers shone like spun mithril in the moonlight. In winter, Imladris looked even more enchanted than at other times of the year.

So entranced was Aragorn by the sight before him that he didn't heard the door to his room open. Only when the elf drew the slightly fluttering curtain to the side, did he notice that he was no longer alone. Out of reflex he lowered his pipe and made as if to put it out. But, when he saw who it was that had come to visit him, he was so surprised that he stopped mid motion.

"Glorfindel?"

"Surprised?" The golden haired elf came to stand beside the man and smiled gently. "We are outside, Estel, no need to put out that pipe of yours." He gestured at the pipe in Aragorn's hand.

A sheepish smile graced Aragorn's face, but after a moment he lifted the pipe again and continued smoking. When Aragorn had overcome his first surprise, he questioned, "What brought you here in the middle of the night, Glorfindel?"

"You, my young friend."

When Aragorn gave him a quizzical look, Glorfindel elaborated. "I was unable to find sleep and took a stroll through the garden. I saw you standing on the balcony and decided to join you."

"Oh." Aragorn took a closer look at the elf, only now noticing that he wore a tunic over his sleeping shirt.

Silence settled around the two, and for long minutes they simply enjoyed the look of the valley. Then, Glorfindel asked another question.

"You could not sleep either, could you? What troubled your sleep after a day like this?"

Aragorn hesitated. He did not truly know how to answer the question. At least not in a few simple words. Exhaling a cloud of blue smoke, he said what had come first to his mind.

"I do not want to die, Glorfindel. Not like this not yet."

The elf beside him sighed deeply. When he spoke, he gazed out at the sleeping valley, and his gaze was gentle. "I know you don't want to. There are only few that willingly choose death, and they are often driven by a greater pain and seek solace and peace in death. Tell me, Estel, did you even think of following through on your threat to give back the gift of the Valar?"

After a moment of contemplation, Aragorn answered in a whisper, "Yes."

This made Glorfindel turn around sharply. "You would kill yourself, Aragorn?"

Aragorn did not miss the surprised tone in the elf's voice, nor the usage of his birth name. Not able to look the elf in the eyes, Aragorn nodded his head. "I thought about it, and I meant what I said to my brothers. If they had not drunken the antidote, I would have tried to give the gift back. In fact, it crossed my mind more than once to still do it. It…it would probably be easier for all of us."

"But there could be hope still, Estel," Glorfindel said gently.

"And where? We tried everything we could and still there is no light on the horizon. I see no way out of this one, Glorfindel. In two days, the poison will strike once more, and from what Gandalf told us, it could well be the last time."

Aragorn paused and shivered slightly. "I am afraid, Glorfindel."

"Of death?"

"No, not death. I am afraid of dying." Finally, Aragorn turned to look at his mentor and friend. "I know I shall find my way to Mandos's Halls and into the halls of my forefathers. I will see my parents and lost friends. I…I hope that I will not meet Dagnir again so soon, for I have not yet forgiven him, and I know not if I ever shall."

Feeling that Aragorn wanted to say more, Glorfindel held his eyes and stayed silent. After a pregnant pause, the man continued.

"I think I am not even so much afraid of dying itself. While I rode with Dan and Ro and later with the rangers, I met death many times. I know its ugly face and the way it comes on silent paws to take you into the abyss. No, I think I am afraid of leaving all those I love behind. To not be there and comfort them in their grief, to miss out on their life and hear their laughter.

"I know the Dunedain do not need me. But I had wished to be there for them. Help them built their cities, defend their homes and their loved ones. Fight with them for their dreams and maybe some day even share them.

"I want to be there when Dan and Ro finally settle down and maybe get children of their own. I want to see Legolas built a home in some part of Arda and be the leader he was born to be. Be that what is in him and of which he is as of yet afraid to acknowledge.

"And Ada. I had hoped to one day see him off. To be there when he sailed West to Valinor to be finally reunited with his beloved Celebrian. I wanted to see him truly happy again. And I …I wanted to make him proud."

Aragorn fell silent for a moment, his gaze focused on the valley. "Foolish, I know. I am only human, and even as a pure blooded descandant of the Numernoreans it is very unlikely that anything of that happens in my lifetime. But still, it would be wonderful to maybe see one of those things fulfilled."

Fighting against the tears that threatened to fall, Glorfindel blinked repeatedly. In that very moment, he saw, for maybe the first time in his life, not the boy Estel had been. The boy who he had helped tutor and raise. He did not see the ranger or the King that Aragorn could have been one day. No, right now he only saw the man Aragorn. The man without the titles and various names. The man behind the mask.

Taking a moment longer to control his roiling emotions, Glorfindel placed an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. Since his return so many, many years ago, Glorfindel had spoken with few people about what he had seen and experienced. And never before had he told a mortal; and had it been anyone else than Aragorn, he would not have thought about it. But things were different now, and with a squeeze to Aragorn's shoulders, he said gently,

"There is something I want to tell you, Estel. Something I have shared with very few people."

Aragorn glanced up at him, his face unreadable. "Do you think it wise to tell me, Glorfindel?"

"I do not know, but I think it would do no harm. Are you willing to hear what I have to say?"

For long minutes Aragorn gazed out at the moonlit valley, taking in the sparkling snow, the soft golden light of torches and light orbs, and the meandering streams. Was he ready to hear what Glorfindel had to say? Would it not change everything? After a time, he did not know how long, he nodded his head. "Tell me, please."

And so Glorfindel told him of his own death and how he had woken in Valinor, in the Halls of Waiting. He spoke of his encounters with lost friends and allies, of his time in lonely thought and contemplation, and of how he had finally been released to dwell in Aman.

While he spoke, his memories came back to him more clearly than he had seen them in a long time, and when he told of the deep blue sea and the gulls that sailed along the white shorelines, he felt a stirring in his heart that was almost painful. A longing he had not felt in centuries. With a small smile gracing his fair features, he finished his tale.

"It is beautiful, Estel. And although I know your spirit will not be released to dwell in Aman but pass West out of Arda, your stay in Mandos's Halls will ease your heart and soul. Nothing can describe the beauty and peace of that place. Almost, yes, it is almost as if you walk through a grey curtain of rain, then all is silver light and you are embraced by warmth and golden sunlight. White shores under a swift rising sun."

"So, it is not bad?" Aragorn's voice was soft, full of emotion.

Squeezing Aragorn's shoulders gently, Glorfindel shook his head. "Nay, it is not, Estel."

"Glorfindel? Hannon le." Aragorn gave his mentor a sincere, if sad smile.

_The End._

…

**No, no just kidding. LOL! No, there will be some more chapters, although it was my goal to stop at 40. Okay, make that 20, then 30, and then 40. Geez, this story has a life of its own. It won't let me finish it. I can guess that you are quite happy about that fact, but I have by now problems to cage and feed all the other plot bunnies that plague me. Still, I love this story and if the story demands it, I will write 50 more chapters. +laughs+**

**So, tell me what you think of this chapter. I am dying to hear your reviews, for I was not sure whether the twins and Legolas would react like that. And furthermore (how do I word this politely?), I am a bit disappointed with the feedback for the last chapter. Was anything wrong with it? Did I do anything that made you angry?**

**Until the next chapter!**

**A/N:** I took the liberty to rephrase Gandalf's words from the scene in which he comforts young Pippin in Minas Tirith.


	42. 41 Elrond's Discovery

**Hi! Yes, it is me! Thank you so much for all your wonderful review. I will send the replies in a few moments. ;) Here is the new chapter and I hope you like it.

* * *

****Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translations:_

Fea: the (elvish) soul

Mel-: to lover

Til-: Horn

Meltille: Loving-squirrel (yeah, far fetched, I know :o)).

* * *

--oOo--

_"Memory seeps from my veins,_

_Let me be empty _

_And weightless and maybe_

_I'll find some peace tonight." _

_(Sarah McLachlan – Angel) _

--oOo--

* * *

Chapter 41: Elrond's discovery

Legolas did not know what had caused the change in Aragorn. It was late afternoon the day after the snow fight, and as it had begun to snow rather heavily early in the morning, Aragorn and he had decided to spend the day inside.

From his vantage point in front of the fire, Legolas watched his friend closely. Aragorn was sitting on the window sill, gazing out of the window. Although, Legolas was not sure whether there was anything to see, for the swirling masses of snow had turned the light outside into a murky darkness, and the white frost flowers covering the glass would surely impede Aragorn's view as well.

Still, for the last hour Aragorn had simply sat there, unmoving, silent. But for all the silence that came from the man, a small smile seemed to be engraved in his features. And, Aragorn seemed almost relaxed. As if something had happened that had taken away the underlying tension in his body.

Legolas had immediately noticed the change in the men when he had arrived at the breakfast table. It had not been his actions, or his words. No, it had rather been as if his fea had been affected in a way that made Aragorn more…himself? Yes, maybe that was the right word. Aragorn felt and looked more himself than he had these last days.

Sure, he was still too thin, his skin too pale, had lines in his face that had not been there before and his injuries not healed, but, despite all of that, Aragorn seemed well.

No matter what had caused this change, Legolas was grateful for it. For the first time since he had met with Aragorn outside of that stone prison in the Misty Mountains, he felt he had his friend back. The fact that he had gotten him back for a rather small amount of time was the only drawback.

Before he could help himself, Legolas was grinning gently. Not only was the old Aragorn back, but he had him for himself for the afternoon. Ah, Legolas knew very well that it was a foolish thought, but he felt glad that Elrond and Gandalf had ordered the twins to rest a bit more and then keep the rangers some company, answer their numerous questions about the leadership of the Dunedain, the poison and such. To say that the twins had been displeased was as if one would say Morgoth had been a misunderstood individual.

A small snort left Legolas's lips and his grin widened. He had no doubt that Elrond and Gandalf had arranged for him to be able to spend some time alone with Aragorn, and he knew he would be eternally grateful for that.

"What is so funny, Legolas?" Aragorn's amused voice came from the window.

"Huh? Oh, I just imagined the look on the twins' faces when your father told them the news."

A chuckle came from Aragorn. "That must truly have been a sight to behold. I wish I had seen it."

"We can ask them later about the number of threats they came up with, but were afraid to utter loud."

"Aye, we could. But considering we are talking about Elladan and Elrohir and their rather amusing vocabulary, this could prove to be a task worth a lifetime." Aragorn frowned in mock concentration. "We could narrow it down to Quenya curses. Or Adunaic curses."

Legolas's musical laughter filled the room. "Even that list would be very long, Estel. But, we could ask them to only tell us the dwarven curses."

"If you are not mistaken on that regard, my friend. The twins have learned from the best, after all."

Raising an eyebrow, Legolas asked innocently, "Glorfindel?"

"No." Aragorn shook his head and grinned. "The rangers of the North."

"Ah, I see." Legolas gave him a knowing smile before he stood and placed another log on the fire. "I do not think it will stop to snow tonight. But tomorrow should be sunny again, knowing the weather in the valley. It never stays unfriendly here."

"No, it doesn't." Aragorn leaned back against the wall of the window, his sight directed at the swirling masses of snow outside. A deep sigh left his lips, and his voice was wistful when he spoke next, "You know, when I was a child, Dan and Ro would sit with me on days like this and tell me stories. We would watch the snowflakes one by one on their way down to earth, trying to see their shapes and pick out the smallest or thickest."

Straightening up, Legolas smiled softly. "That is a nice memory, Estel."

"Aye, it is." Nodding, Aragorn did not turn to look at Legolas, but the elf could see the reflection of his face in the window. "I have many nice memories. Of my family, friends…of you, gwanur nin."

Aragorn's eyes held Legolas's in the window, and he looked suddenly very serious, as if he had come to a decision and no longer held any fear. But then, the spell broke and Legolas wondered whether he had seen it at all, or if it had only been his imagination.

"I have so many memories from my childhood here in Imladris, of ada and the twins. Glorfindel, Erestor, you." Aragorn smiled faintly. "And then the rangers and their families, the villages, Mithrandir, Hobbits."

Aragorn gave a small chuckle as he mentioned the Hobbits, and for a moment he was lost in one of his memories. It did not surprise Legolas that Aragorn mentioned all these things now, but it bothered him a little that he did so with a light heart. There was sadness in his voice, yes, but not as it had been before. Of course, Aragorn had not wanted to spend his last few days on Arda brooding and crying, but still, there was a change in his demeanour that unsettled Legolas more than he could say.

When Aragorn was silent, Legolas moved to stand beside him. "I remember the day we first met, Estel. It rained and there was a storm brewing on the borders of Imladris. I was so soaked that I felt as if I had fallen into a lake. And you, you stood there beside your brothers and father, tall and proud despite your young age."

Chuckling softly, Legolas continued ruefully, "I thought you were a spoiled brat, haughty and arrogant. There was something in your tone of voice that separated you from all the other humans I had met. I could not place it and it confused me.

"Your brothers spoke so highly of you, as did Lord Elrond, but every time we met and talked, I felt as if you thought you were something better. I think I really disliked you during my first days here."

The smile on Aragorn's face widened for a moment, before it was replaced by a more serious look. "I was afraid of you, Legolas."

"What? Why?" This was something new to Legolas. Granted, their friendship had needed some time to grow, but he had never been under the impression that Aragorn had been afraid of him.

"I was fourteen, Legolas. So far I had only met few outsiders, and mostly humans from the settlements that surround the valley. Seldom had other elves visited Imladris, and never Wood-elves.

"My brothers had told me so much about you before you arrived. They spoke of your upbringing, being a prince and all. That you sat beside your father, a real King, in court. That you were used to dealing out punishments and even death sentences when warranted. They told me about your abilities with your bow and twin knives, your qualities as leader and warrior in the ever darkening Mirkwood. That you battled spiders the size of my pony, killed wargs and orcs with bare hands, could climb trees swifter than a squirrel and that you disliked humans.

"Seeing I had never met any elves from your home and that I was a child with a huge imagination, I pictured you as some smaller version of Glorfindel.

"Ada told me to be on my best behaviour and that I should not misbehave in front of you. That your visit was important and that I must not put shame on this house. He had me train my manners and gave me instructions on how to talk to a prince. Of course, he had only my best interest in mind when he did so, for indeed it had been long that you had visited, and he was not sure how you would receive the news that he fostered a human child.

"And then, when you rode into the courtyard, soaked and wet and muddy, you looked so…princely, still. Despite the long journey, the rain, wind and cold, you had an air of supremacy around you, of leadership. I was afraid to do something wrong. To trip over my own feet or misbehave. So, I hid behind my manners and of what I had been told about etiquette. I was scared of you, Legolas. I did not know how to talk to a real prince."

Aragorn shrugged a bit uneasily, but Legolas laughed lightly. "That was how you perceived me? It was not my intention to intimidate you. Actually, I was quite intrigued by you, after I ran into a scene between you and Glorfindel."

Winking at the human beside him, Legolas grinned broadly. "I still cannot believe that you really told the famous Balrog slayer to mind his own affairs and keep his long nose out of your stuff." When Aragorn grimaced beside him and unconsciously rubbed the back of his head, Legolas laughed musically.

"I never found out what that was about, but I thought it very foolish, brave, but foolish to talk to Lord Glorfindel like that. It intrigued me to find out more about you."

"Ah, Glorfindel had other words for my behaviour." Grimacing once more, Aragorn shuddered in mock fear. "He threatened to feed me to the spiders of Mirkwood should I talk to him like that again."

"But there are no Mirkwood spiders in Eriador, Estel. He could not have done that."

Lifting an eyebrow, Aragorn answered seriously, "We are talking about Glorfindel, Legolas. He would have found means and ways."

"True, he would have." Deciding that it was time to change the subject, Legolas gazed at the weather outside. "Judging by the light, it is nearly time for supper. Do your rangers eat with us today, too?"

"Aye, Ada invited them and I think it is a good idea."

"Soooo, Halbarad will be there, too?" There was a wicked gleam in Legolas's eyes that Aragorn knew only too well.

"No, Legolas. Not tonight. You can have your revenge, but please not tonight."

Legolas shrugged. "Why not?"

Sighing, Aragorn gave him a knowing smile, "Because tonight could be my last here on Arda, and I would not want it to be one of fighting."

"Oh." Legolas said, looking struck. When he saw that Aragorn was still smiling, he quickly returned to their bantering.

"Revenge? That hurts, Estel. I would never seek revenge for a mere snowball fight."

"Yes, right. And orcs smell like freshly mowed grass." Aragorn got up from his position on the window sill and hobbled over to the door. Despite his father's worry, he had refused to use the crutches any longer and used a cane now. His knee still hurt, but not as fiercely as before.

"Come, Prince of Pranks, let us see what there is for supper tonight. That might keep you from plotting the revenge you are not seeking."

Pouting behind Aragorn's back, Legolas hurried to follow. They were halfway down the hallway when Legolas asked innocently, "Do you still have some of the spring grass that you used on your brothers, Estel?"

"Oh Valar, Legolas, please don't!"

--oOo--

The inhabitants of the Last Homely House spent a merry meal together, inviting all the house staff that did not live in the house as well as the rangers to dine with them. There was much laughter and teasing, and even Erestor could not resist telling a joke. After dinner the rangers, the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Elrond retired to the Hall of Fire, where they sat far into the night, telling stories, singing and joking.

"Do not deny it, Aragorn. That maiden practically threw herself at you." Halbarad pointed with his ale filled cup at Aragorn, who shook his head all the while.

"She was only trying to get more coins." He defended himself.

"Aye, for special services," a ranger beside Halbarad said, causing the other rangers to chuckle.

"I think this is not an appropriate topic to discuss in my halls," Elrond said gently, but firmly. The rangers had the grace to blush, but the twins broke out into huge smiles.

"Well, then let me tell you of the time young Estel here tried to climb his first tree." Elladan smiled sweetly at the rangers. He enjoyed retelling Aragorn's childish endeavours, much to his brother's discomfort.

"Elladan." Aragorn whined a bit, but he smiled nonetheless. "You do not really want to tell that old story."

"Oh, but I would love to. It is such a good one. Imagine, Master Rangers, a tree, a five year old Aragorn, a summer day, a fall into a river…"

Giving his brother a playful shove, Aragorn protested, "Elladan! If I remember correctly, it was you and Ro who dared me to climb the tree…and to try and hide the bruises from Ada."

Eyes widening, the twins shook their heads, eyes snapping to their father. "We did not try to hide them, Ada," Elladan said quickly. "We merely decided to wait till they had faded from purple to yellow to show you."

When Elrond frowned and the twins exchanged worried glances, the rangers broke out into giggles. They had some experience with the twin sons of Lord Elrond, seeing that they often rode with the Dunedain, but this was priceless.

"I will let it pass, for now," Elrond said, winking at Glorfindel, who sat beside him and sipped his Dorwinion in silence.

In Elrohir's opinion it was time for a diversion, and so he quickly searched for a new target. Perhaps it would not do to terrorize Aragorn even more in front of his rangers, for now, but there was still Legolas.

Legolas should have been warned when Elrohir's eyes glimmered with a wicked light that he knew only too well. But he was unprepared when Elrohir raised his voice and joyfully asked the assembled men and elves, "Have you ever heard the tale of Meltille?"

Legolas choked on his wine. Surely he had not heard correctly. He lifted his head slowly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. But one look in the twins' wickedly grinning faces told him all he needed to know. He was doomed.

When the rangers and even Aragorn shook their heads, Elrohir began to speak, all the while smiling sweetly at Legolas. "It is a haunting tale. Full of hurt and pain, emotions that should never have been there. A story of love and loss. Two individuals from different worlds, separated by ages uncounted. But love is a strange thing, and so the seed of love grew into a wonderful blossom. Alas, their love was doomed from the beginning, and so their story ends in darkness and despair, heartbreak and suffering."

By now, Elladan was snickering helplessly. Elrohir had to take the cup of wine out of his hand so that he would not spill it. The fact that Legolas send a fiery glare his way, followed shortly by a pillow, did not help matters either.

"Ro, Dan, I swear if you tell that story, I will tell Estel about the trip we made to Lake Town when you visited for one of my begetting day celebrations and ended up in the town prison for a night until I paid your bail," Legolas hissed.

"That is indeed a tale I would very much like to hear." It seemed Elrond's eyebrow would stay near his hairline for the rest of the evening, with all the hints of his sons' mischief he heard.

"Me, too, Legolas," Aragorn said but then grinned evilly. "After the twins tell us about Meltille, of course."

Groaning, Legolas took a deep swig of his wine. He knew when he faced a battle he could not win. But, when Elrohir launched into the tale and exaggerated to the point of it being a fairy tale, he vowed to repay him in kind.

"You should have seen Legolas's face when that love sick squirrel tried to make a nest in his hair." Laughing merrily, Elrohir pointed at Legolas, whose smile was as cold as the snow on Caradhras.

"Oh yes, and the way it followed him everywhere! It chattered and squeaked and made such a noise that it scared away all our game. That poor animal was so love struck that it chased up and down his legs and body, round and round and round. In the end it tried to get under his clothing, and Legolas jumped up and down, trying to grab a hold of it. It was hilarious."

Elladan wiped his eyes with his sleeve, giggling helplessly by now. "When we left the forest, the squirrel wanted to follow him into the house. It looked so hurt and sad when Legolas shooed it away. I think it even cried. It was truly a heartbreaking sight.

"But, our good prince here is not as cold hearted as you might all think now. I saw him laying out some nuts in the tree in the courtyard and then even spending some time with the poor animal," Elrohir said, patting Legolas's knee.

The rangers laughed loudly, much to Legolas's chagrin. And when he heard Halbarad murmur something about crazy Wood-elves, he vowed silently to repay him, soon.

"Now, are we going to hear the story about Lake Town and the prison?" Aragorn asked, while he reached behind himself to take the blanket from the backrest of the couch he was sitting on.

"Aye, I would love to hear it." Glorfindel seconded, grinning smugly at the twins, who squirmed in their seats.

"Ah, Glorfindel, that story is quite boring," Elladan stated, shooting Legolas a death glare – which Legolas ignored, of course.

Elrohir waved his hand in the general direction of the rangers. "I am sure the rangers are not interested in this old tale. Why don't Dan and I tell the story of Estel being nearly eaten by an army of ants when he was sixteen?"

To Aragorn's horror, his men exchanged questioning looks, and it seemed as if they were agreeing to Elrohir's suggestion. The story of the ants was really a thing that Aragorn did not wish them to know. Valar, he had worked so hard to forget that incident; it was so embarrassing. .

"Legolas, my friend." Aragorn grinned sweetly at him. "How was that with the prison? When did that happen?"

But Aragorn's attempt to divert the attention of the rangers away from him did not work. Lifting his hand into the air, Halbarad declared loudly, "I want to hear the ant story. Who else?"

In unison the rest of the rangers lifted their hands into the air, causing Aragorn to groan loudly and bury his head into his hands. "And here I wanted to take that story with me into the grave."

It was too soft for the rangers to hear, but Elrond, who sat beside Aragorn, understood the words quite clearly. He took a sharp breath that went not unnoticed by Glorfindel, but said nothing. He suspected that Aragorn had not even noticed what he had said.

A moment later the twins charged ahead into the story. They told how on one sunny summer afternoon Aragorn and they had gone swimming in one of the numerous pools in the valley, how he had placed his clothing on the ground, never noticing that he placed them on an ant hill. When the twins came to the part where Aragorn had donned the ant infested clothing, being bitten dozens of times by the animals in very sensitive areas, how he had danced around and slapped at his clothing in an attempt to get rid of them, the rangers were laughing merrily. And when Elladan replayed Aragorn's desperate jump into the pool and mimicked the splash of the water and the bedraggled face of his foster brother, Halbarad laughed so helplessly that he slid from his chair and landed with a dull thud on the ground.

The hours passed quickly. Midnight came and went, as did the early hours of morning. The group of elves and men had split into various smaller groups, the level of their speech dying down somewhat. Elrond, Gandalf and Glorfindel had occupied seats in front of one of the smaller hearths in the Hall, Elladan was playing chess with one of the rangers, Aragorn and Halbarad talked quietly on the couch and Legolas and Elrohir entertained the rest of the rangers with stories.

It was only a few hours before dawn when Legolas finished his story about a young Aragorn and his first night in the forest of Mirkwood. He had wisely left out certain things that had happened, like Aragorn's panicked reaction at being attacked by huge moths.

The rangers laughed lightly, but Legolas could tell that slowly but surely their minds wandered to different places. Places where there was no laughter, no fun and no happiness. Places where there was no future, no hope. They all knew that, as soon as the sun rose, Aragorn's last day could begin. It had been four days now, four days since the poison had last attacked.

Legolas was startled slightly when one of the rangers spoke up. "It seems Aragorn was well sheltered here and much loved."

"Aye, he was. From the day he entered our lives," Elrohir said wistfully, shooting a quick look at his foster brother. Aragorn had wrapped himself in the blanket and was listening intently to whatever it was Halbarad was saying.

"I have not had the honour to truly get to know him, but I know that I shall miss our Chieftain," the same ranger said, suddenly looking very serious.

"He is not dead yet. There is still hope." Legolas could not help but feel slighted, and cursed his own feelings. Had he not only moments ago thought the same?

"What hope is there?" the ranger said. He sat up straighter and nodded into the direction of the windows. "The sun will rise in but a few short hours, and we know what will happen then. And we, we will do nothing, for there is nothing that we can do."

Elrohir exchanged a look with Legolas, but then turned his head and looked away. Deep inside they all felt that the ranger was right. But, what could they do? Nothing.

"As long as Aragorn draws breath, I will not give up hope. I will not give Estel up," Legolas said vehemently, if softly.

The ranger opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he shook his head, got to his feet and strode to the door. He did not even look back when he left, and Legolas pondered whether he should follow him or not. It was one of the other rangers who stopped him.

"Let him be, Master elf. He already lost one Chieftain, he is not yet ready to lose another one. And the son of his friend at that."

"He knew Arathorn well, then?" Elrohir asked, intrigued. He thought that he had known most of Arathorn's close friends, seeing that he and Elladan had often ridden with the rangers.

The ranger nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Not so much Arathorn, but Gilraen. They grew up together, in the same village. He was only a few years older than her and was something like her older brother, helped and protected her. When he was old enough, he joined the rangers, and Gilraen feared for his safety but was also proud of his decision to fight against the darkness.

"Whenever he was near, she would go and visit him, and so it was that on one of these occasions she met Arathorn. They became –maybe not friends- but fighters in the same battle; the battle to protect Gilraen and make her happy."

The ranger paused for a moment, gauging the elves reaction to his story. Then he continued very softly, "As far as I know, Arathorn pondered making him Aragorn's guardian in case of his death, but never declared it officially. It was then decided that it would be too dangerous to do that, for he could have died on a patrol every single day. And then, then Arathorn died and…"

Shrugging, the ranger sighed deeply and wiped a hand across his face. "It is late and I had too much to drink. I should go to bed. Tomorrow…no, today, will be an exhausting day."

Getting to his feet, the ranger bowed slightly, nudging the last remaining ranger with his elbow to follow. Together, the rangers left the Hall of Fire, and the ranger who played chess with Elladan followed shortly afterwards.

Elladan rubbed his hands together and sat down on one of the chairs the rangers had occupied. Grinning, he declared, "I won."

"Dan, did you know that Arathorn pondered making one of the rangers Estel's guardian?" Elrohir asked without preamble, making Elladan's smile slip from his face.

"What?"

"Yes. One of the rangers just told us. I never knew; Arathorn never said anything."

Confused, Elladan shook his head. He had not known that and was not sure whether he should believe it. Arathorn had been a good friend, and although the twins had not been present during most of his time in Imladris, they had gotten to know each other quite well. That Arathorn should have thought about such a thing was a novelty.

"All the heirs of Isildur reside in Imladris for a time, Ro. Arathorn must have known that we would take Estel to Imladris and protect him here," Elladan said.

Sighing, Elrohir tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. "Dan, have you ever truly thought about it? About our decision to take Estel to Imladris?"

"Of course. It was the only thing to do."

"Was it, Dan?" Leaning forwards in his chair, Elrohir glanced at his brother intently. "We never asked anybody, Dan. We took Estel, brought him here and hid his existence from the outside world. We never even told the Dunedain that he was still alive. Only Arathorn's second in command knew that Estel was still alive, and we made him promise to never say a word. Dan, what if Arathorn had different plans?" Elrohir sounded nervous.

"What do you mean, Elrohir?" Legolas interjected, not able to follow the younger twin's thought.

"What if Arathorn did not want for Estel to live in Imladris? What if he had made other plans for the case he and Gilraen died? Were we wrong in bringing him here?"

Suddenly, a gentle voice from behind startled Elrohir. "No, you were not. You accepted him into your family, and he will be forever grateful."

Turning around quickly, Elrohir looked into Aragorn's face. Any other time Aragorn would have been happy to have managed to startle one of his brothers, but not right now. Upon seeing Elrohir's surprised and somewhat guilty face, he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Ro, I was a happy child. I felt loved and secure. You, Dan, Ada and all the others made my life…extraordinary. I would not miss a single day of it."

He squeezed Elrohir's shoulder gently, smiling. Feeling too emotional to speak, Elrohir nodded before he gave Aragorn a minute smile.

Aragorn took this as a good sign and turned towards the original reason for coming over to his brothers and Legolas.

"It is late, or early, however you want to see it. I am tired and quite stiff from sitting on that couch all evening. I will retire to my own room until breakfast."

Legolas climbed to his feet. "I will walk with you, Estel. I could use a bit of sleep, too."

The twins nodded too, and together they said goodnight to Elrond, Gandalf and Glorfindel and retired to the family wing and their respective rooms. Halbarad, who had lacked behind a bit said goodnight to Aragorn, the twins and Legolas, but did not follow immediately.

He waited until Aragorn and the elves were out of the door before he straightened his shoulders and turned towards Elrond, Glorfindel and Gandalf. He had thought about this for the last three days, and Halbarad had the feeling as if now was his last time to do what he had promised himself to do.

But, despite his determination, he felt his knees become a bit weak as he walked up to the mighty elves and the wizard. He could see that they were still talking animatedly and had not yet noticed his lingering; Halbarad took a deep breath, released it slowly, and then bowed before Elrond.

"My Lord Elrond, I know it is late, but I wish to talk to you." Halbarad glanced briefly at Glorfindel and Gandalf, before he turned back to Elrond. "In private."

Elrond merely lifted an elegant eyebrow before he started to rise from his chair. It was Glorfindel who made him stop his motion. "No need, Elrond. As Master Halbarad has said, it is late and even an ancient Balrog slayer needs his sleep. Goodnight."

Bowing, Glorfindel gathered his robes around him and exited the Hall of Fire. Gandalf was slower to follow, though. He looked from Elrond to Halbarad and back before he leaned back in his chair.

"I napped a bit this afternoon and am quite awake." When neither Elrond nor Halbarad commented, he winked at Elrond. "And I do not need nearly as much beauty sleep as a certain elf from Gondolin."

Elrond fought the urge to roll his eyes but said nothing. Instead, he gestured for Halbarad to sit down in the chair Glorfindel had left only moments prior. Both Elrond and Gandalf could tell from the look on Halbarad's face that he would have preferred to speak with Elrond alone, but they could also see that he quickly resigned himself to the fact that Gandalf would stay.

Once seated, Halbarad began to fidget his hands in his lap, suddenly looking very much his young age. Elrond could not help but think that Halbarad was still very young to be a ranger; he had joined the regular patrols only a few years back. Aragorn was even younger…

Elrond was ripped out of this thoughts by Halbarad's voice.

"Lord Elrond, I wanted to talk to you about tomorrow. Well, today, actually. From what we know of the poison, it will attack sometime today. I know that you have tried everything in your power to find a cure, something to stop this madness."

Here Halbarad squirmed a bit in his seat, looking hesitant. Nevertheless, he took another deep breath and forged on. "In only a few hours Aragorn could die, and we sit here, feasting and drinking and telling stories of the past. Should we not rather work to save the future? My Lord, is there really nothing that can be done?"

Elrond had feared that this would happen; that sooner or later someone would ask this question. And deep inside he was not even surprised that it was Halbarad who did so now; the man had been a good friend of Aragorn since their first patrol together.

"What would you have me do, Halbarad? The whole of Imladris has been searched, as have the villages that are near enough to be reached in time. Do you not think I would do everything I can to help him?" Elrond said, leaning forwards in his chair.

"I know, but there has to be something." Halbarad rana hand through his hair, got to his feet and started to pace agitatedly. "Aragorn cannot leave us yet. We need him, now more than before. Even I can feel that something stirs in Arda, and disturbing news have reached the Dunedain. About fell beasts in the south, missing people in the north, and a spreading darkness in the east. I…I cannot explain it, but I feel that Aragorn is the key to stop all of this. To change something."

Halbarad stopped in his tracks and turned narrowed eyes on Elrond. "The gift of foresight is not as strong in my family as it is in Aragorn's, but when I first met Aragorn, I had a vision of the future."

He took another deep, shivering breath. "This vision is my light when darkness wants to settle in my heart. It is, no …Aragorn is my spark of hope. He is the reason I fight so hard every day. I never talked with the other rangers about that, but I can tell from the look in their eyes that they feel the same. Aragorn cannot die. If he dies, the future dies, too."

Elrond felt his own emotions well up when he saw Halbarad turning around quickly to wipe at his eyes with his hands. It was true. Every single word that Halbarad had said matched Elrond's own thoughts and feelings. Aragorn had been a gift to his family; he had brought laughter and happiness back into his house. Should he die, Elrond knew his own future would darken. He saw no more light, where once had been a ray of hope.

Sighing, Elrond glanced at Gandalf. The old wizard looked as sad as he felt. One of his gnarled hands stroked his long beard absentmindedly, while his other rested on the armrest of his chair. The wizard shook his head gently, and Elrond felt suddenly very alone.

Halbarad had come to him tonight to seek answers to his questions, to find a solution to their problems. He had not asked Glorfindel, or Gandalf. No, he had come to the Lord of Imladris, the fabled healer and Lord. And now?

Elrond had no answers, had no solution, no wisdom that could help here. Everyone looked at him for support, but to whom should he look? There was no one. If Elrond knew no answer, then probably no one knew. And all Elrond had to offer right now, was his own pain.

Slowly, Elrond got to his feet and walked over to Halbarad. He placed a hand on the ranger's shoulder, and squeezed gently. "I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I cannot."

"Then there is truly, absolutely nothing we can do to hinder that poison from running through his veins?" Halbarad locked his eyes with Elrond. In that moment, a spark seemed to burn brightly in the young ranger's eyes, and Elrond felt a long lost emotion swell inside of him. Hope.

It was as if someone had lit a candle in his mind; there was something, a memory perhaps, or an idea that nudged him. Elrond could not explain it, but suddenly he felt very agitated. There was a solution to their problem. He knew it. It was the same kind of feeling that someone got when he was in a situation similar to one that had already happened.

If he could just grab it…hold it for a moment…

"Elrond? Are you well?" Gandalf's asked worriedly from where he sat in his chair.

"No, no I am not well." Releasing Halbarad's shoulder, Elrond turned towards his old friend. "But I will be."

"Elrond?"

A nervous, almost disbelieving smile crossed Elrond's face. "I think I know how to save him. But it is dangerous. Especially for a human."

Tbc…

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**So, good? Bad? Let me know, I am a review addict. -g- The next chapter is called "Down, down, down into the grave" -eg-**

**On another note, I have created a poll on my livejournal (see link on profile) for my new story. I really, really need some more votes! So, please, if you are interested, go there and vote. You do not have to be a member or anything. It is open to all. Thank you!**


	43. 42 Down, down, down into the

**Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translations:_

Lore mae: Sleep well

Mellon nin: My friend

Saes: Please

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**Warning: This chapter deals with content that may not be suitable for sensitive readers. It is bloody, emotional and deals with aspects of self-determination at terminating ones own life. I know that the problem of suicide still divides humankind, and I in no way want to influence anyone. The fact that I am a strong defender of Euthanasia (termination of life when one is very ill and will die of a natural death soon, or is in a state of coma from which he will not wake etc.) has surely influenced this story, but this is a question that every single one has to answer for himself. And, please, if you feel alone or abandoned, with no way out and misunderstood, seek help before you do something you could regret later. Life is precious, for we only have this one; we should try to preserve it as long as it is still humane. **

**Please keep in mind that Aragorn is young in this story (24) and that he is not yet the Book-Aragorn we know. There must have happened something in his past to turn him into the man he is in the books, so, bear with me, please.**

**Phew, enough rambling, on with the story. :-)

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"_His momma said he was crazy-he said "momma I've got to try"_

_Don't you know that all my heroes died?_

_And I guess I'd rather die than fade away."_

_(Bon Jovi – These Days)

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Chapter 42: Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave(1)

Chapter 41: A nervous, almost disbelieving smile crossed Elrond's face. "I think I know how to save him. But it is dangerous. Especially for a human."

While Elrond explained his idea to Gandalf and Halbarad, Aragorn and Legolas had reached their respective rooms.

"Goodnight, Estel."

Aragorn smiled gently. "You too, mellon nin." He hesitated a second, but then embraced Legolas tightly. "Thank you, Legolas, for always being there for me, even when I pushed you away. For being my friend through thick and thin. I…I could not have been more gifted in my life. Your friendship was one of the best things that ever happened to me."

He gave Legolas another squeeze, then released him and stepped back. There was a wet shimmer in his eyes, but before Legolas could comment, Aragorn opened his door and entered his room.

"The same goes for me, my friend. Lore mae, Estel. I will wake you for breakfast," Legolas said, and when he saw Aragorn nod, he turned and opened his own door.

Seeing that there were only a few hours of night left before dawn, Legolas did not go to bed, but made his way over to his balcony and stepped outside. The storm of the day had cleaned the air, and it smelled fresh and reviving. Breathing in deeply, Legolas leaned his arms on the balustrade and gazed out over the sleeping valley.

Golden lights illuminated the pathways; swimming candles had been lit on the pools and frozen streams. It was peaceful and serene, and Legolas felt some of the tension of the day drain away. Imladris had always been a haven of solitude and healing for him, and even now, when death and heartache was but a door away, the magic of the valley was able to soothe his soul.

To his right, where Aragorn's balcony and room was situated, warm light spilled into the night, but after a few minutes the light vanished, and Legolas knew that Aragorn had gone to bed. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the nightly breeze wash over him. Being out on the balcony would revive him more than a few hours of sleep ever could.

What Legolas did not know was that Aragorn had not gone to bed, but had simply dimmed the light of the oil lamp to a degree that would suggest he slept. Instead, Aragorn silently hobbled over to his man high cupboard, opened its door and began to rummage through it. After a few moments of awkward crouching, he sighed resignedly and kneeled on the floor.

Immediately his injured knee screamed in protest, but Aragorn tried to ignore it. There were more important things to do now than complaining about some discomfort. The night was almost spent, and Aragorn knew that he had not much time left. Literally.

After his talk with Glorfindel the night before, Aragorn had finally come to a decision. It had taken him long, very long to take it, but now that his decision stood, he felt the urge to go through with it before the day broke.

There had not been much time to plan and prepare, but he knew that he had what he needed in his room, anyway. So, Aragorn had used the day to spend time with Legolas, his brothers, father and friends. He had said farewell to every single one of them, one way or another, and Aragorn hoped that they would be able to one day forgive him for what he would do tonight. Even if they could not understand it right away.

A satisfied grunt left Aragorn's lips as his fingers found the object he had searched for. He sat on the floor and pulled his leather travelling pack with him. It had been cleaned and stitched after his arrival in Imladris, but from the weight in his lap Aragorn could tell that it had not been emptied of his possessions. With a sad smile on his face he climbed to his feet, using the cupboard doors as leverage.

Aragorn walked over to his bed and put his pack on it. For some more minutes he rummaged through its contents until he had found his healing kit, and then all the things he would need. Taking up the various satchels, his small mortar and pestle and a sharp knife, Aragorn walked over to his desk.

He mused for a moment whether to ignite the small candle that stood on it, but he decided against it. The incident with Glorfindel the previous night had shown him that Imladris was not as asleep during the night as he might think, and company was something Aragorn could not need right now. With a pang of sadness, he realized that he would never again have company here in Arda if his plan worked.

Feeling his breathing quicken as his emotions rolled to the surface, Aragorn began to methodically sort through his herbs, leaves and roots. Some of them were too old to be very useful, seeing that he had not had the time to collect new ones after the first attack had rendered him in pain.

Sitting down on the chair in front of his desk, Aragorn inspected some of the leaves, but decided that they would not do, due to their state. It did not surprise him that most of his herbs were unusable; he had suspected as much. And, he would not need them anyway, as they were only for the taste or responsible for the quickness of the potion he was making. No, the main ingredients would be a kind of root.

Aragorn took some of the grey roots out of the cloths they had been stored in, and after a critical sniff at them, he pressed their end between thumb and forefinger. Clear liquid began to seep from them, and with a satisfied nod Aragorn reached for his knife. The roots where still fresh enough to use.

While he cut the roots carefully from top to bottom and then opened them to scrape the soft flesh from the inside, Aragorn let his thoughts wander. Here he sat, alone in his room, with no one but the moon and the stars for company. And when morning broke and Legolas would knock at his door to wake him for breakfast, there would be no answer. For he, Aragorn would already be dead, gone from this world by his own volition.

Once more Glorfindel's words ran through his head. Aye, he had thought about committing suicide; his words to his brothers had been no bluff. After all that had happened in the last weeks –the poisoning, the capture, Dagnir, the attacks of the poison, the pain, heartache and fear- Aragorn had reached a point from where things could only get worse.

Had Mithrandir not told him that no one had survived the poison? That they had all died after four or five weeks? What the poison had done to his brothers and him so far had been horrible, and a small part of Aragorn feared what the next stage might bring. He had no more doubt that it would be the last attack, and that he would die a very painful, terrible death.

To be honest, it had been Mithrandir who had given him the idea of suicide, when he had told them all that he knew of the poison. Had not the other victims of this devilry sought to escape through killing themselves? In Aragorn's opinion, it was not a coward's escape, but the last step of self-determination he could take. He would not let the poison determine his death.

But that was not the only reason for his decision to end it here and now, this night. He was still afraid of dying, yes, but he was even more afraid of having his family and friends watch him die. Already he felt their eyes on him every time he so much as cleared his throat. His death would cause them much pain, but to watch him die, struggling for each breath, perhaps screaming in agony, writhing on the ground or choking on his own tongue…it made Aragorn shiver to even think about it.

As elves his family and friends would keep these images in their memories for eternity, and even take them to Valinor. Maybe their pain and heartache would be eased in the blessed realm, but the pictures of his last minutes would stay with them forever. That was something Aragorn did not want them to see, to suffer through.

Part of his brothers' and his plan had been to fill their last days with happiness and laughter, and to some degree it had even worked. The last day had been a nice one, and the evening in the Hall of Fire had almost been normal. Aragorn wanted his family and friends to take these happy images of him to Valinor.

It would make things so much easier. For all of them.

And the selfish part of Aragorn knew that he was taking the easy road. Not the cowardly escape from the poison, but the road away from tears and emotional pain. Deep inside Aragorn knew that he would not be able to see his loved ones in pain when he passed away in front of their eyes. No, he would go like a thief in the night; silent and quickly.

Well, perhaps what he was doing was selfish and cowardly, but Aragorn felt that it was the right thing to do. This was his life, and he would not let that poison win in the end. He would determine the way he went and the time and the place. And no matter how much it hurt to not be able to properly say goodbye to his friends and family, Aragorn hoped that they would find rest one day.

Having opened all the roots and scraped the soft, juicy flesh from their insides, Aragorn put it into his mortar, added a bit of water, then some salt to lose the toxins from the juice, and began to mix and crush it with his pestle.

It was more than ironic that he would end his life with the help of a root, seeing that it was the poison of a root that coursed through his veins, intent on killing him. If he had not known better, Aragorn would have thought that all kinds of roots were some kind of evil. As a healer, he knew better, of course. Many roots had healing properties, some tasted delicious, and others could be used to calm the nerves of even the most skittish horse.

When the paste in his mortar looked to be of the right consistency, Aragorn cut some of the still good leaves and added them to the roots, salt and water. He stirred the mixture, then placed the mortar at the edge of the hearth. The fire in his room always burned through the nights, albeit lowly, and its heat would be enough to warm the mixture. It would be ready soon, Aragorn knew.

He moved back to his desk, and while the mixture warmed, Aragorn pulled out parchment, ink and quill and began to pen down the words he had not been able to say to his friends and family. He wrote letters for Legolas, Arwen, Gandalf, Glorfindel, Erestor and Halbarad, too, then stacked them neatly on top of an old tome. It had been one of his favourite books about the creatures that roamed Arda when he had been a child, and he had decided to give it to Legolas. Maybe his friend would draw some comfort from it, seeing that he possessed nothing material from Aragorn, unlike the others. Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel and Erestor had the Last Homely House, his room and his other earthly possessions to remember him by.

But the letters and the book were not the only things that Aragorn would leave behind. Bowing his head, he let the soft light of the fire in the hearth reflect on the band on his left forefinger. The Ring of Barahir shimmered silver and golden, and the green stones seemed to be as green as the forest of Mirkwood. The play of light mesmerized Aragorn; it almost looked as if he was walking under the boughs of green trees on a sunny afternoon.

For long minutes Aragorn sat there, still and deep in thought, but then a sigh left his lips and with a last longing look, he took the ring off and placed it on top of the letters. He had not forgotten the look of dismay, guilt and sadness on Elrohir's face when he had told him about the day his human father had died, and about how Elladan had had to take the ring of Barahir off his father's hand. Aragorn did not want that his father or brothers would have to go through that again.

Although, being the last heir of Isildur, the ring could go with him to the grave. But, Aragorn felt it right that the ring of Barahir should stay within the walls of Imladris, together with the shards of Narsil and all the other things of his forefathers that had accumulated in the Last Homely House over the centuries. Elrond would take them with him over the sea and into the West when the time was come, and there the heirlooms of his house would stay until the ending of the world. It was a somewhat comforting thought that his family and friends would possess something of him that they could take with them wherever they went.

The mixture near the fire started to steam gently, and Aragorn got to his feet to fetch it. Suddenly, the world tilted to the side, and he had to grab the edge of the desk to keep his balance. His abrupt motions shook the desk, and with a crash the ink bottle fell to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

Sighing, Aragorn shook his head. He had been awake for almost a whole day now, and his tiredness made him a bit weak. His numerous injuries did not hurt him that much anymore, but they still sapped a lot of his strength while they healed.

His balance returning to him, Aragorn slowly hobbled over to the hearth, lifted the mortar and took a look at the mixture. It was warm now, maybe a bit too hot even, and so Aragorn decided to cool it a bit by adding some water.

Sitting down on his bed, Aragorn took one last look around his room, making sure that he had not forgotten anything. There were the letters, the book, and the ring. The rest of the room was tidy and neat; strange as it was, Aragorn did not want to leave his room messy.

Strangely, when he had come to his decision, when he knew that he would not be swayed now, that indeed he would soon die, Aragorn had started to have a fierce, nearly heartbreaking sense of time, of frailty. Everything he saw, smelled and heard was precious to him, and each moment was a moment he would not want to miss, although he would have thought it meaningless any other time. Strange, indeed.

A few moments later, Aragorn poured the mixture into a cup, then added clear water. He stirred it, and held it in his hand and lifted hand and glass in front of his face.

--oOo--

"Do you know what it is you are suggesting, Elrond?" Gandalf asked, stroking his long beard. For the last hour Elrond had spoken with the wizard and Halbarad about his idea, but he could tell by the look on their faces that both were not overly exited.

"I know how it must sound, but it could save him." Elrond insisted.

"Kill him, more likely." The hope that Halbarad had felt when Elrond had told them that he had an idea, had vanished into nothingness the more Elrond had told them. What the lord of Imladris was proposing was folly, and Halbarad hoped that Aragorn would not agree.

Anger flittered briefly across Elrond's face, but he composed himself quickly. Had he not just come up with a way to rescue Aragorn? He knew it was risky, but it was a chance, after all.

"It is not as dangerous as it might sound to you." Elrond tried once more; from everyone in the room, maybe he alone knew how dangerous it really was.

Lifting an eyebrow, Halbarad began to pace agitatedly once more. It seemed that he did that whenever he was upset or uncertain. "You call cutting his wrists open to drain almost all of his blood not dangerous?" He sounded unbelieving.

"If it is done correctly and with the best of healers and medicines nearby, most patients recover from the treatment."

Halbarad huffed. "Most patients? My Lord, have you ever tried this on a human? Aragorn is injured and weak already, we all saw that over the last few days. What do you think such a blood-letting would do to him?"

Elrond took a deep breath. He knew that the method sounded barbaric, but he had done it before, once, and the elf had survived and healed completely. It was an ancient treatment, even by elven standards, and due to the severity of the operation it was used rarely. Thinking back, Elrond could not remember whether it had been used more than once in this age. But, despite all the risks, it could prove to be Aragorn's last chance, and he could not understand why Halbarad protested so vehemently. Had he not asked, pleaded actually, for Elrond to do something?

"Master Halbarad, Estel will die. Today, tomorrow, or when this poison decides that it has played long enough with its victim. He will die. But when this works, when the blood-letting can wash this toxin out of his veins to a degree that he will survive, or at least lessen the strength of the attacks until we can grow some lilies from old seeds, then why should we not try it?"

For a moment, Halbarad looked as if he wanted to object once more, but then he breathed in deeply and released the air slowly. Elrond could see the emotions war on his face, and after a long moment, the ranger nodded. "It is not my decision, my Lord. Aragorn has to decide. It is his life, and only he can decide over it."

"Then it is decided." Gandalf climbed to his feet and stretched like a cat, albeit slower and grimacing when his back cracked loudly. "We will ask him in the morning. But for now, I need to lie down on a flat surface for a while. Goodnight, Elrond, Halbarad." Picking up his staff, Gandalf left the Hall of Fire, and a moment later Elrond and Halbarad followed him.

--oOo--

Legolas was not sure what he had heard, but he had definitely heard something shatter in Aragorn's room. For a moment, he stood perfectly still on the balcony, holding his breath. When no more sounds reached his ears, Legolas leaned over the balustrade and tried to look into Aragorn's room, but the night was too dark and Aragorn had pulled the curtains closed, too.

With a frown, Legolas gazed at the dark windows of his friend's room. He had not imagined the sound, he was sure of it. What if…what if the poison had attacked while Aragorn had been sleeping, and he had thrown something to the ground in the throws of pain? Fear shot through Legolas and made his heart stop a beat. Then, he sprinted from the balcony, threw his door open and was at Aragorn's door only a few seconds later.

Upon opening it, Legolas could not suppress the startled gasp that escaped him. There on the bed sat Aragorn, still dressed in the clothing he had worn for dinner, and in his hands he held a cup, ready to drink from it. That in itself would not have been unusual, but the fact that the room was dark except for the light from the hearth and a small oil lamp that had obviously been dimmed, and the very surprised and guilty look on Aragorn's face clearly showed Legolas that something was wrong. Very wrong.

He closed the door behind him, then stood there and stared at his friend. Slowly, almost deliberately, Aragorn let his hand sink down to his lap, but he did not let go of the cup. Neither of them said anything for a while, and Legolas could tell by the look in Aragorn's eyes that he would not start this particular conversation.

Almost in a whisper, Legolas asked, "Where you doing what I think you were doing?"

Aragorn tilted his head to the side and shrugged half-heartedly. "I had not expected to see you tonight, Legolas."

"Does that make it any better?" Sounding disbelieving, Legolas made his way over to Aragorn and stood in front of him. "Tell me, Estel, what is in that cup?"

As if he had to find that out himself, Aragorn looked into the cup, letting the mixture roll around in it slightly. A strong, sweet scent reached Legolas's nose, and he was reminded of mint and blackroot. He knew that smell, had smelled it before when an injured horse had been put to eternal rest.

Eyes wide, Legolas reached out quickly, took the cup from Aragorn's hand and sniffed at it. Turning accusing eyes on his friend, he said, "Estel! You tried to kill yourself? Like this? And you…you would go without saying goodbye?"

"I said my farewells, Legolas. Even to you," Aragorn said seriously before he stood and reached for the cup. Legolas simply stared at him, shocked and unbelieving; but he did resist when Aragorn tried to take the cup back from him. Legolas drew his arm back and out of Aragorn's reach.

"I thought I knew you, Estel, but it seems I was wrong." Legolas swallowed thickly, then gestured at the cup in his hand. "I never thought you would do something like this. How can you give up hope so easily?"

Sighing, Aragorn shook his head. "We talked about this before, Legolas, and I thought you understood me. That of all my family and friends you would be the one who would understand my decision."

When Legolas gazed at him uncomprehendingly, Aragorn made his way over to the hearth and stood in front of it. His voice was soft when he spoke, and his gaze directed at the flames. "You may think me a coward for leaving this way, and maybe you are right. I simply cannot watch my family and friends despair. It would break my heart to see you all suffering because of me."

Turning around, his tone became pleading. "Legolas, saes, let me end this my way. Don't let the poison take away what happy memories I have been able to give the ones I love. Don't take away their chance of remembering me the way I was before all of this happened, instead of the one the poison turned me into. Let me go the way I have chosen."

He stepped up to Legolas and holding his eyes, he said very gently, "Let me go, Legolas. Let me go."

Tears welled up in Legolas's eyes, and suddenly he understood the old saying that the true pain in friendship and was not to love, but to let go. And Valar, it hurt. "Do you really want to do this, Estel? Is it your own, free will to do this?"

Giving Legolas a sad smile, Aragorn nodded. He saw the various emotions that flittered across Legolas's face, saw the tears in his eyes and the difficulty it cost Legolas to make his own decision. Finally, Legolas stretched out his arm and handed the cup back to Aragorn.

"I will miss you, Estel." Not able to hold the tears at bay any longer, Legolas bowed his head, sniffing softly.

"Shh, Legolas…" With a gentle hand under Legolas's chin, Aragorn lifted his friend's head until Legolas was forced to look in his eyes. "Legolas, I loved my life, and therefore I shall have no sorrow to die (2)."

Sniffing once more, Legolas nodded weakly. Determination shone in Aragorn's eyes, and deep inside Legolas felt that maybe, maybe Aragorn was doing the right thing. Gesturing at the cup in Aragorn's hand, Legolas said softly, but seriously, "I will not go away, Estel. I will stay here, with you, until the end."

"Alright. I have expected nothing else from you, now that you are here, Legolas." Aragorn took a deep breath. "But, Legolas, are you sure you want to do this?"

For a moment, Legolas stared at his friend, and then he asked, "What will happen to you once you drink this?"

Aragorn gave the liquid in the cup a swirl. "Basically, it is a very strong sleeping draught. Too strong for a mortal body. I will fall asleep soon after drinking it and feel no more. The ingredients of the potion will slow the functions of my body down; the muscles will relax, the organs will stop functioning one by one, and then the lungs will slow down. In the end, even before I will suffocate, my heart will slow down, until it ceases to beat."

"Will it be painful?" Legolas had paled, but he stood his ground and had not moved to leave the room.

Shaking his head, Aragorn said gently, so as if it was not he, but Legolas who would drink the potion, "No, it will not be painful, do not fear, mellon nin. I will feel nothing but sleepiness, and perhaps a bit drowsy and sluggish."

Legolas nodded, then wiped at the tears that still rolled down his cheeks. "I wish there was something I could do to stop you from having to do this."

"I wish you would not have to live through this, Legolas. Truly, I wish that nothing of this would have happened, but we cannot change the course of fate. And if this is my fate, then I have to accept it." Aragorn made his way over to his bed and sat down on the coverlet, the cup in his hand.

"And what about your destiny, Estel? Have all the foretellings of your destiny been wrong, then?"

A longing look entered Aragorn's eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. "For a time I had hoped that some miracle would happen, you know. That, when it is my destiny to face the darkness of Mordor, and to either rise above all my ancestors or bring the doom to Middle-earth, then surely I cannot die now, can I? We always presumed I would fulfil the good part of the prophecy, but what if I am meant to fulfil the 'doom' part?" A short laugh left his lips. "But destiny and fate are two very different things, Legolas. I know that now."

Not knowing what else to say, Legolas sat down next to Aragorn and placed an arm across his friend's shoulders. So they sat for a few minutes, neither of them ready yet to take the next step. Then, Legolas felt Aragorn tense under his touch. The man turned his head and smiled sadly at Legolas. "Dawn will break soon, Legolas. It is time for me to go."

Legolas embraced Aragorn fiercely. "Then go with my blessing, mellon nin. Find happiness in your fathers' halls and peace of heart and soul. I shall miss you, Estel."

Burying his face in Legolas shoulder, Aragorn shook his head. "I wish I could tell you to forget me, Legolas, for I know that my passing will cause you pain. But I cannot say, do not remember me, for then you would not remember the happy times we had…and the scrapes we got into."

A soft laugh came from Legolas, and he held Aragorn tighter, whispering in his ear, "I will never forget you. Do not forget me either."

"Never, Legolas, never."

Then, Aragorn broke from the embrace, and after a long look at the cup, he took a deep breath, lifted it, and drank the potion with but two sips.

--oOo--

Dawn crawled over the cliffs that hide Imladris, and the rays of the morning sun painted the walls in red and golden hues. A pale blue sky spread out across the valley, and early morning birds greeted the new day merrily. The waterfalls shimmered in the sunlight, and the myriads of water droplets glimmered like caught diamonds. All was fresh and clean, ready to begin a new day.

But inside of the Last Homely House, in Aragorn's room, life was about to end. The potion had worked quickly, and after only a quarter of an hour Aragorn had fallen into a deep sleep, resting secure in Legolas's arms. They had spoken no more, for all that had been needed to say had been said, and when Aragorn had closed his eyes and his breathing had evened out, Legolas had placed him down on the bed, his head resting on a soft pillow. Then, he had waited.

Hours had dragged by, and as Aragorn had predicted, his breathing slowed and became laboured. Every breath he took was shallower than the last, and the time between them grew steadily longer. Legolas was too afraid to place his hand across Aragorn's heart, knowing what he would feel. Instead, he sat at Aragorn's side and held his hand, stroking the back of his hand absentmindedly with his thumb.

Legolas had seen the various letters on the desk, as well as the Ring of Barahir, and he suspected that it were farewell letters to family and friends. Surely one of them was addressed to him, but he had not been able to read his letter yet. Not as long as Aragorn was still alive. Maybe later…maybe never.

When the first rays of the sun entered the room through the curtains, which Legolas had opened sometime during the night, Legolas could feel Aragorn's life ebb away swiftly. Soon, it would be over, and his friend would be free.

A few more minutes passed in which Aragorn's breathing slowed even more, to the point that it was almost unnoticeable. Legolas gave Aragorn's hand a strong squeeze, letting him know that he was still there and had not left him, although Legolas doubted that Aragorn could still feel anything.

So focused on Aragorn was he, that the soft knock on the door startled Legolas immensely. His head shot up, eyes wide in surprise and a bit of panic. Only a few more minutes, maybe half an hour…

The knock came again, and when there was no reply, the door opened slowly and Elrond peeked his head in. When he saw Legolas and Aragorn, his eyes widened to the size of saucers and the greeting that was on his lips turned into a grimace of pain.

A breathless 'no' was the only thing that he was able to say.

_Tbc…_

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(1) Title taken from one of Edna St. Vincent Millay's poems. I will add the title as soon as I find it.

(2) Amelia Burr: Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.

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**So, what do you think? My beta advised me to run...do you think the same? Let me know please. Pleeeeeaaaaase!**


	44. 43 Resurrection of Hope

**Beta: Chris**

**Dedication:** This chapter is dedicated to **LilyBaggins**, because she _asked_ so nicely. ;)

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_Elvish translations:_

Arandil: Kings-friend

Moruthond: Blackroot

Tulco/indo: Heart-support _(my elvish version of foxglove, which can really counteract curare poisoning; foxglove can support the heart and strengthens it in its functioning, when it is given in small dosages)

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_

"_There's no earthly way of knowing,_

_what was in your heart,_

_when it stopped going,_

_the whole world shook, a storm was flowing through you._

…

_There's no dignity in death,_

_To sell the world your last breath."_

_(Robbie Williams – Advertising Space)

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_

Chapter 43: Resurrection of Hope

Elrond stood in the doorway, unmoving. Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, and he had problems to utter a coherent sentence. From the moment he had looked into the room, he had known that Aragorn was not merely asleep, and that something more sinister had happened. It was in the atmosphere, the air, the guilty and nearly panicked look on Legolas's face.

Another look at Aragorn's ashen face confirmed Elrond's worst fears. With an anguished sob he closed his eyes. His knees felt suddenly very weak, and he leaned heavily on the doorframe to not tumble to the ground. His son, his young son had given up his life to flee from pain and suffering. He had gone where Elrond would not follow, and he had done so without telling him.

But why now? Now that he had found a way to help him, maybe even rescue him! What cruel hand had fate played him, that his son would die now that hope had returned?

A shuddering breath left his lips, and with still closed eyes Elrond asked softly, "So he is gone then?"

Legolas did not answer immediately, but then he said sadly, "Not yet, but his hour draws nearer with every breath he takes."

"What? He is not dead?" Pushing away from the doorframe, Elrond entered the room quickly and strode up to the bedside. With trembling hands he reached for Aragorn's wrist to feel the pulse. He sighed in relief. "Indeed, he lives. He lives."

Then Elrond frowned and placed his other hand on Aragorn's chest, right above the heart. His expression grew worried, urgent. "His heart beats like a terrified bird. Legolas, what has he taken? Tell me!"

"My Lord, it was Estel's decision." Shaking his head, Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand gently.

"No, no, you do not understand, Legolas." Elrond frantically opened Aragorn's shirt and pressed his ear against the skin, listening to the sound of Aragorn's laboured breathing. "His time wanes. He is nearly gone. No, no!"

"Lord Elrond, Estel wanted this, and I could not sway his mind. Maybe it is for the best. Let him go, as I have done."

Elrond could clearly hear the tears in Legolas's voice, and he could only imagine what it had cost the elf to let Aragorn go. But, that did nothing to quell his agitation, and the urgency he felt caused his voice to sound harsher than he had intended.

"Tell me, Legolas! What was it he took? We do not have much time left!"

"My Lord, he…."

"No!" Elrond interrupted Legolas rudely. Pointing a finger at Legolas, Elrond explained, "Last night I had an idea. I know of a way to save him. Rescue him from certain death! So tell me, what did he use?"

Shock tore through Legolas. Elrond had found a way to save Aragorn? How could this be? And more importantly, was it true? Or was Elrond lying to him in an attempt to save Aragorn right now from his own potion?

Legolas could feel the blood flee his face and his hands began to shake. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. An idea? Rescue? Aragorn did not have to die?

Suddenly, Elrond's strong arms lifted Legolas by the collar of his tunic, shaking him so fiercely that his long hair flew around his face.

"Legolas, tell me! Now!" Elrond's voice boomed, fear and urgency clearly distinguishable.

Snapping out of his shock, Legolas managed to shake his head. "I don't know what he took. It was a tea or potion of some kind. It smelled like….like something used on horses when they are injured."

"What?" Elrond whispered, letting go of Legolas's collar and causing the prince to land on the bed with a soft thud.

"Aye, I smelled it before, but I don't know the name of it." Legolas explained. Elrond's face had paled even more, and his eyes darted from Aragorn's ashen face to Legolas's and back.

When his eyes landed on the cup that Aragorn had used and which still stood on the bedside table, he swiftly took it and smelled it.

If possible, Elrond paled even further. With a slightly shaking hand he said softly, almost to himself, "Moruthond…I should have known." He let his eyes travel across the room, resting shortly on the desk where the mortar and pestle still sat, then to the water pitcher and the bundle of herbs and roots that still lay on the table as well.

"Legolas, how much did he drink? A full cup?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye, the cup had been full to shortly under the brim. Lord Elrond, do you…do you really know a way to save him?" Legolas had to know if there was a way, or if he was –again - grasping at a vain ray of hope.

"Aye, maybe. But first we have to help him now." With that said, Elrond replaced the cup unceremoniously on a nearby chair, then moved quickly to Aragorn's side and began to rub his arms. "Legolas, go to the healing wing, there is a shelf in the main room, on the right wall. There is a glass jar labelled 'Tulcoindo'. Bring it to me, and quickly, for Estel does not have much time left. Oh, and Legolas, bring the castor oil as well."

Still too stunned to act of his own free will, Legolas nodded and then sprinted from the room into the direction of the healing wing. While he ran down the corridor, he had the vague feeling that this was slightly familiar to him. Had he not done so only a few days ago, feeling the same amount of dread and desperation fill his heart?

He skidded around a corner, moving too fast to make the turn. With a gasp of breath he smashed into the wall of the hallway, jarring his injured shoulder. A sharp pain shot up and down his arm, but Legolas had no time to spare for it, and so he ran on. He could see the doors to the healing wing already, and the look in Elrond's eyes and his own knowledge about Aragorn's condition gave him extra speed.

With but a few steps Legolas was at the doors and threw them open, startling the female healer who was tending to the fire in the hearth.

"Lord Legolas, is there anything I can do for you?"

Absolutely ignoring her, Legolas let his eyes roam across the room. The shelf Elrond had spoken of was to his right. He was still breathing quicker than was normal for an elf who had merely run down a few corridors, but Legolas's fear hindered him from slowing it down. The glass jar was swiftly found; Elrond's neat handwriting labelled it in black letters, saying clearly 'Tulcoindo'.

There were many more jars and boxes, vials and satchels on that shelf, each labelled in Elrond's neat script, and Legolas could even see some with the handwriting of Aragorn. But what he could not find, even after standing on tiptoe, was the castor oil.

The younger healer was staring at him with questioning eyes, having her hands clasped in front of her. It was not unusual for either the sons of Elrond, an advisor or even Legolas to come to the healing wing to fetch some thing or another for the Lord of Imladris, and the healers had learned that everything went quicker if they let the agitated elves be and waited for instructions.

Turning around, Legolas voiced his problem, "I need some castor oil, but I cannot find it."

"I see, Lord Legolas," the healer said, smiling, then turned and walked over to an even higher shelf on the opposite wall. While she retrieved another glass jar from the highest shelf, she explained. "When Master Estel was younger, he had a habit of putting everything within reach into his mouth. So we placed it there, out of reach of children. We never broke that habit of ours."

She handed Legolas the jar, who took it gratefully and was out of the door the next second. But his voice echoed down the hallway, "Hannon le."

Chasing down the deserted corridors of the Last Homely House, Legolas's mind was racing with thoughts, one as terrible as the next. How could fate be so cruel and bring new hope to them now that Hope had decided to leave?

Rounding a corner with high speed, Legolas was barely able to avoid crashing into the wall once more. The two glass jars in his arms clanged together loudly, and the one with the castor oil slipped dangerously down the sweaty palm of his hand. Legolas cursed softly and rearranged the bottles, never even slowing down.

Down the hallway, then left, then up the stairways and down another hallway. He passed the doors to the twins' rooms, and when he reached the door to Aragorn's room, he sprinted through it.

It was as if Legolas had strayed into a nightmare. Beside the bed, Elrond was still rubbing Aragorn's arms, in the vain attempt to keep the blood flowing and the heart beating. Aragorn was as still as before, but his face was now almost translucent, the fine blue arteries around his eyes being clearly visible. His lips were of a pale blue, and for a moment Legolas thought that Aragorn had already passed away, despite Elrond's efforts.

In just that moment Elrond looked up, and upon seeing Legolas rushing through the door, he quickly ordered him to bring the jars over. Elrond placed them on the small nightstand beside the bed, opening them almost in the same movement.

"Legolas, bring me a cup, but not the one Estel used tonight, mind you." While Elrond spoke, he pushed the pillows away from under Estel's head, laying the man down flat on the bed. Legolas spotted a cup on the hearth sill, probably from one of their tea times the last week, and he quickly brought it over to Elrond, who had by now placed the washbasin in front of the bed.

"Thank you," Elrond said absentmindedly, pouring a small portion of the castor oil into the cup. After a moment of hesitation he added a bit more, then added some water as well. Stirring the mixture with his index finger, for he had neither the time nor the state of mind to search for something else, Elrond nodded in Aragorn's direction.

"Legolas, lift his head, he has to drink this."

Nodding, Legolas climbed onto the bed and lifted Aragorn into his arm, resting his friend's head on his shoulder. When he touched Aragorn to brush some strands of hair from his face, Legolas could not suppress the shiver that ran down his back. Valar, Aragorn was so cold. Almost as if he was gone already. Before Legolas could stop himself, he placed a hand on Aragorn's chest, where the heart was, and what he felt made him hold his breath.

Elrond was right; Aragorn's heart was beating like a terrified bird, caged in too small a cage. If it did not slow down soon, it would stop beating. Legolas knew not much about healing, but he knew that the body needed extra air when the heart beat that fast. And Legolas knew that Aragorn was not breathing deeply enough to provide his body with that needed air. But before he could dwell on this and the consequences this could have for Aragorn, the door opened and the twins entered the room, followed by Halbarad.

They were talking animatedly, but when they saw what was going on, they stopped dead in their tracks, shocked. It was Elladan who reacted first. "Ada, what…"

"Not now, ion nin," Elrond said, casting a quick glance at his sons and Halbarad. A few seconds later, he opened Aragorn's mouth and poured the mixture down his throat. Aragorn did swallow reflexively; a sign that he was not yet gone too far.

Neither the twins nor Halbarad knew what had happened, but they knew that it was serious. Without saying a word, Halbarad reached behind him and closed the door softly. No need for everybody to see what was going on. No need to make Aragorn's…death? Suffering?… an open spectacle.

In stunned silence the twins and Halbarad watched how Elrond poured the drink down Aragorn's throat, massaging the throat to help him swallow even the last drop. Then, the elven lord stepped back, ordering Legolas to help him roll Aragorn onto his side. As if on an unspoken signal, the twins moved to the bed, and together with their father and friend they rolled the unresponsive Aragorn so that his head was looking in the direction of the balcony door, and was positioned right above the basin.

Then, they waited.

Uneasy looks passed between the Peredhel and Legolas, but no one said anything. Halbarad wanted to ask something; what had happened? What had been given to Aragorn and what were they waiting for? He opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. The grave look on Elrond's face and the shocked expressions on the twins' let him hold his tongue. Once, he caught Elrond's look with a frown and Legolas's, and Legolas bowed his head and averted his gaze. What had happened here? Somehow, Halbarad had a feeling as if this was not the poison's doing.

Before he could elaborate on that thought, however, Aragorn's body began to shake softly. His breathing increased, while he seemed to…retch. And then, quicker than Halbarad could react in any way, Aragorn began to vomit into the basin that Elrond held under his head. Legolas and the twins had a firm hold on Aragorn's still unconscious body, supporting him while his body tried to get rid of whatever was in his stomach.

It was not much that splattered into the basin, and when Aragorn began to retch but nothing more would come, Elrond handed the basin wordlessly to Elrohir, who took it away. Elladan let go of Aragorn's body to open one of the windows.

Tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind Aragorn's ear, Elrond examined his son for signs of waking, but he knew that it was unlikely. As if reading his thoughts, Legolas asked tentatively, "This was it? He will be fine now?"

Sighing and refraining from sending Legolas a reproachful look –for what had happened really was not Legolas's fault- Elrond shook his head. "He drank the Moruthond hours ago; most of it has already entered his bloodstream. We will wait till he stops retching and then give him some of the Tulcoindo."

Upon hearing his father's words, Elladan stiffened visibly. With a disbelieving voice he asked, "He did what? Ada, tell me you did not just say that Estel…that he…." His voice broke, and Elladan was unable to utter what was going through his head. This was unthinkable. Never, ever had he suspected Aragorn to do something like that.

"Aye, you heard correctly and he did." Elrond's voice was resigned, but there was also a note of anger in it that Elladan could understand only too well.

"I cannot believe that." Stepping up to the bed once more, Elladan pierced Legolas with a look. "Legolas, is it true?"

When Legolas simply bowed his head, Elladan blanched. He took a deep breath then, and hissed, "And you let him do that, Legolas? How could you?"

Elrohir chose that moment to re-enter the room, and when he saw the scene in front of him, he send a questioning look to his twin.

"He drank Moruthond, Ro." Elladan informed him, still pale as the snow outside.

"What?" Elrohir blinked in confusion, before he, too, gazed at Legolas. "Tell me that it was an accident."

"No, it was not," Legolas said, brushing some sweaty hairs from Aragorn's face. The man had stopped retching, but his breathing was even more laboured than before.

"Valar, what drove him to do this?" Whispering, Elrohir sat down on the bed, looking down at his foster brother.

"Do what? My Lords, what happened?" Halbarad asked, his voice raspy with confusion. From what he had seen and heard, he suspected he knew what had happened. Aragorn must have digested something, therefore the castor oil. The rangers used it to help children in case they ate something poisonous or bad, but Halbarad had no idea what Aragorn had drunk that made the elves so upset; Moruthond had no meaning to him.

For a few moments none of the elves spoke, but then Elrond shook his head minutely. "He has stopped retching. We should give him the Tulcoindo now." With that said, Elrond poured some of the yellow liquid out of the glass jar into the same cup he had used before, not minding that traces of castor oil still clinged to it.

"Master Elrond? I do not understand." Lifting his hands in a gesture of helplessness, Halbarad looked from Elrond to the twins and Legolas, but none of them seemed inclined to elaborate.

"Please, Aragorn is my friend. Tell me."

Closing his eyes, Elrohir sighed deeply. "Moruthond is a mixture used on animals to put them out of their misery in case of injury or sickness. It is too strong for a mortal body to cope with."

Shock. That was the first thing that registered with Halbarad, but then he shook his head in disbelieve. "Why would he…"

"This is neither here nor there." Elrond said loudly and his voice held a tone of finality. "We can ask him if he wakes. Legolas, hold his head."

Just like they had done before, Legolas held Aragorn's head, while Elrond poured the potion down Aragorn's throat. It took longer this time, for Aragorn's body had problems swallowing, probably due to the castor oil. When all the Tulcoindo was gone, Legolas settled Aragorn comfortably on the bed, pulling the pillows close again.

Then, they waited.

Neither Halbarad, the twins nor Legolas had not noticed Elrond's use of the word 'if' when referring to Aragorn waking, but they said nothing, knowing that right now, words could not change anything. The questions that were burning on their tongues were kept behind closed teeth, and the only thing that showed their turmoil were their eyes; eyes that held shock, disbelieve and frustration.

Why? Why now that Elrond had found a cure?

While they waited, the sun rose above the white cliff walls, and life awoke in the halls of the Last Homely House. The sweet smells of freshly baked pastries filled the air, mixed with the scent of warm bread; subdued voices floated in from the garden, coming from elves who freed the plants and pathways of fresh snow. Soft footsteps came from the corridor on their way to the dining rooms. Life was going on in Imladris. As it always would till the day that Elrond chose to sail to the Grey Havens, for the elves of the valley would follow him, should he leave Middle-earth.

And in the room, almost completely silent beside the soft breathing of it occupants and the occasional shifting of a foot or the rustling of clothing, Aragorn lay pale and unmoving on his bed, surrounded by his friends and family. His breathing had eased somewhat and Elrond could feel his heart beat more regularly under his fingers.

But he showed no signs of waking, and when the sun had risen completely and silence had retuned to the hallways of the house, for all elves had gone to break their fast, another, bitter thought came to Elrond's mind, and he sighed deeply.

Could he fight against the Moruthond and the poison at the same time? What if the Moruthond not only weakened Aragorn's body, but also strengthened the poison? Was not today the day the poison would attack once more? Would the poison steal his son away under his eyes, unnoticed and invisible, because Aragorn would not wake to feel the effects?

His troubling thoughts must have been visible on his face, for a moment later Elrond felt a strong hand on his shoulder. "Ada?"

Turning his head, Elrond looked directly into Elrohir's worried eyes. Not feeling it in him to give his son the reassurance he was seeking, Elrond sighed deeply once more. "Only time can tell, my son, whether your brother will live."

"And time is the only thing we do not have in abundance," Elladan said, his hands balled into fists at his side. Once more his gaze found Legolas's, but again the Prince averted his eyes. "Legolas, tell me, where you with him when he…when he did that?" Elladan pointed at the bed and the unmoving figure of his foster brother.

Legolas closed his eyes; he had known that this conversation would come, but he had hoped that it would not come so soon. Rather when they could be sure that Aragorn would wake and live. It would have made things so much easier.

How was he to explain something that he did not truly understand himself?

Taking a deep breath, Legolas opened his eyes and for the first time that morning locked eyes with Elladan. When Aragorn could not talk for himself, then he would try his best to explain his motives.

But just as Legolas opened his mouth to speak, footsteps sounded from the hallway and neared the room. They were soft, but not soft enough to belong to an elf. A moment later, a knock came from the door, accompanied by a decidedly human voice.

"My Lord? Are you in there?"

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a quick look, as did Legolas and Elrond, before their eyes fell on the still unconscious Aragorn. What were they to do now? Although they did not know all the details of what had happened, they felt that this was private; nothing that Aragorn's rangers needed to know.

It was Halbarad who snapped out of his thoughts first, and before the second knock on the door had faded away, he was at the door, opened it only a crack and stepped quickly outside. The elves inside the room saw outside the face of the ranger who had left the Hall of Fire so abruptly the night before, looking askance at Halbarad, but then the door closed behind the rangers and the elves were alone again.

"Should we follow him?" Elladan asked; from his tone of voice it was clear that he wanted to make sure that what happened should stay in this room.

Elrohir shook his head. "Nay, brother. Halbarad will not tell, I saw it in his eyes. Although he does not show it often, he loves Estel as a brother and would see no harm befall him." Here he paused a second, before he continued, "Or his reputation among his people."

Once more a pregnant silence fell on the room; the rays of the sun slowly sneaked across floor and walls, tables and chairs, and it had reached the pale face of Aragorn before Elrond spoke once more. "We should send for Mithrandir, he needs to know."

--oOo--

"Halbarad? I thought to find you here when you were not in your room. Is everything alright with the Chieftain?"

For a moment, Halbarad said nothing. He should have known that one of the other rangers would come looking for him and Aragorn when they failed to show up at the breakfast table. They were as concerned for Aragorn as he was; maybe even more so, Halbarad mused, seeing that they did not know everything that had happened. And, Halbarad thought as he gazed at the man standing in front of him, he should have known that Arandil, the childhood friend of Gilraen, would seek him out.

"Let us go some place more private, Arandil." Halbarad said, and with a hand on the ranger's elbow he led the man down the hallway, away from Aragorn's room. Arandil threw a long look over his shoulder at the closed door but said nothing. The look on Halbarad's grim face told him more than words ever could. And the sadness and shock in his leaders eyes…

Outward appearance could be deceiving and words could lie, but the eyes of a man, more so even the eyes of the Dunedain, always spoke the truth if one chanced to look at them at an unguarded moment.

And what Arandil had seen in Halbarad's eyes for only a fleeting moment, had told him that maybe, maybe they had just lost another Chieftain to darkness and evil. With an inaudible sigh Arandil let himself be guided down the staircase to the entrance hall and did not protest when Halbarad opened the huge double doors to the Last Homely House and proceeded him out into the courtyard and then, the gardens.

Together they walked down the garden paths, grateful that the elves had freed the pathways of most of the snow. They had not taken the time to grab their cloaks, but the coldness they felt was uncannily refreshing; as if all the uncertainties, questions and worries had been laid out in the open, ready to be faced. And the weak winter sun reflected on the snow and frozen streams, giving the men the impression that now was the time for answers. Or at least, Arandil felt that way. Halbarad wished for one of the elves to stand in his place, for how was he supposed to tell his man what had happened to Aragorn without lying outright, something he would never do? But elves, elves had the uncanny ability to answer…and not answer at all.

Running a hand through his hair and breathing the cold air in deeply, Halbarad stopped under a huge tree, whose bark was glistening white with ice crystals, and whose ancient branches were laden with snow. Staring out over the valley, Halbarad pondered where to begin, what to say and what not to say. But, before he had come to a decision, Arandil spoke up.

"What happened, Halbarad? Another attack?"

His breath misting in front of his face, Halbarad turned and looked into the other man's eyes. "Not quite."

Valar, this was difficult, Halbarad thought when he saw Arandil frown questioningly. Thinking that hedging around any longer would only make the ranger more suspicious, and that he really wanted to go back inside to be at his Chieftain's side, Halbarad said with a sigh,

"During the night Aragorn's condition deteriorated, and it was only due to Lord Elrond's intervention that our Chieftain still draws breath. Indeed, that we still have a Chieftain right now. I do not know what happened, neither what will happen now, but as of yet Aragorn has not regained consciousness, and it is doubtful whether he ever will."

Halbarad paused here, studying Arandil's face. The ranger looked worried and sad, but at the same moment almost resigned. A deep sigh left Arandil's lips then, and he averted his gaze for a moment before he looked back at Halbarad.

"It was not the poison, you say? What caused this change then, I wonder?"

Was there a note of suspicion in the voice? Of accusation? Not sure whether he had heard it or not, Halbarad shrugged his shoulders. He did not wish to relay all that had happened to Arandil now. "I do not know. When I left with you, Lord Elrond was still checking him over. Perhaps we will never know." The last was said with a note of finality and after a brief hesitation and another frown, Arandil nodded once.

"Alright. Shall I tell the others, or do you wish to do that?"

Pondering this a moment, Halbarad again felt the urgent desire to return to Aragorn's side, and therefore he said, "Perhaps it will be best if you tell them, for I will stay with Aragorn for a while longer. At least until he wakes or Lord Elrond asks me to leave."

Arandil nodded, and after another moment, the two rangers made their way back towards the house. They had already reached the steps that led up to the huge double doors, when Arandil paused in his steps and turned a searching gaze on Halbarad.

"Halbarad, we know each other since you were a child. You know I love Aragorn almost as a younger brother and honour him as my Chieftain. You would tell me if something more sinister were at work here, would you not?"

Would he? For a moment Halbarad gazed into Arandil's eyes, unsure of his answer. With a brief incline of his head, he said serenely, "I would withhold nothing from you or our people that he would want them to know."

With that, Halbarad turned, ascended the steps and entered the Last Homely House. Had he looked back over his shoulder, he would have seen Arandil smiled a very sad and knowing smile.

--oOo--

As it was too early yet for a decent smoke, Gandalf had ventured into the garden at dawn, wishing to see the sun rise above the valley. It would clear his thoughts, he knew, and after what Elrond had told him the night before, he very much needed some time to think. Despite what he had said yesterday, he had hardly slept, tossing and turning in a way much unbefitting for one of the Istar. But still, his heart and mind fought a battle, and a victor had not yet emerged.

Huddled in a thick cloak to ward off the cold, Gandalf sat on a bench in the snowy garden, thinking and watching. More thinking than watching, actually. Should they try and do what Elrond had proposed? Was it folly? And what if it worked and thinned the deadly poison to a degree that the attacks would no longer be lethal? Would it give them enough time to grow some lilies? Elrond certainly knew how to, but it would take weeks, if not months. And all through this time, Aragorn would suffer from attacks, albeit lesser ones. Could they ask him to do that?

With a shake of his head Gandalf huffed into his beard. What, in the name of the Valar, was he thinking about? Of course Aragorn would undergo the treatment if it could save him! The only question was, was it worth the risk of him dying during the operation? It was no small thing, such a bloodletting. In all his long centuries on Arda Gandalf never had been witness to such a procedure, and he felt not only a small amount of discomfort at the thought that Aragorn, a good friend and a man with an important future, should undergo it.

Despite his trust in Elrond, Gandalf could not shake a feeling of foreboding. Or was it rather a feeling of…doubt? It was as if something was brushing against his thoughts, light and soft, but very persistent. As if there was something he had read, or heard, or knew, that was important now, but whenever he tried to reach out and pull it near, it retreated into the shadows of his memory. It was frustrating, to say the least. And the fact that Gandalf was older than most, thought and had seen more than he wished he had, made him quite a bit irksome to not be able to grasp the thought now.

But the longer he sat on the bench, thinking, the closer he got to the bottom of it. It was not a memory that plagued him, no, for that felt different. And it was nothing he had felt or read; he was sure of that. Then, what was it? Gandalf knew his conversation with Elrond and Halbarad the night before had sparked this, and so he went through the talk, word for word, bit by bit until the sun crested the white cliffs and bathed the valley into a golden hue.

Gandalf sighed. He was closer now, but not close enough. Frowning, he concentrated. Something he had heard, maybe, something he had wondered about…maybe…could it be that…

Slowly, Gandalf felt his mind opening, and he was just to reach out and get a hold on his errant thought, when voices from down the path disturbed his concentration. Hissing in frustration, Gandalf was about to get to his feet and snap at the one who had spoken, but he stopped in mid stride when he made out the spoken words.

"_What happened, Halbarad? Another attack?"_

Another attack? Gandalf's heart missed a beat, only to then beat double fast. Had Aragorn been attacked while he sat in the garden, musing perhaps about nothing? But the next words, Halbarad's words to be precise, partly alleviated his fear.

"_Not quite."_

Unintentionally, Gandalf listened to the whole conversation between the two rangers. They had obviously not seen him, due to the hedge of evergreen, and Gandalf felt it not in him to get up and go. To learn that Aragorn was unconscious worried Gandalf greatly, and Halbarad's last words made him flinch openly. For a ranger, Halbarad was a very bad liar, and it seemed he had not yet mastered the art of answering truthfully, but without content.

After the footsteps of the rangers had faded into nothing, Gandalf straightened and made his way over to the Last Homely House as well. His feet scrunched on the thin layer that was left of the snow and his staff left round holes in its surface, and when he entered the house and left white, wet spots on the carpets and rugs, Gandalf did not notice it. The feeling that brushed against his mind had returned to him, and it was even more persistent than before.

Still, all those thoughts were driven from his mind when he reached the door to Aragorn's room, opened it and beheld the sombre faces within.

--oOo--

The sun had reached its midday position and, still, Aragorn had not woken. Slowly but surely Legolas began to fear that his friend never would wake again. His condition had not worsened, had on the contrary improved, if one was to believe the word of Lord Elrond, but Aragorn's skin still felt cold to the touch, his breathing shallow. The only thing that Legolas found encouraging was the fact that Aragorn's heart seemed to beat more regularly now, and a bit stronger. Elrond had told him that this was the effect of the Tulcoindo. Of course, Lord Elrond had told them all about the idea he had had the night before, and while the twins merely nodded, Legolas had felt his face blanch. It had sounded barbaric.

Elrond and Gandalf had stepped out on the balcony for a moment to catch some fresh air, and the twins and Halbarad had not left, either. Elladan and Elrohir were sitting near the hearth, talking quietly while Halbarad sat in a chair next to them, gazing into nothingness, lost in thought. From time to time he would frown or shake his head minutely, and Legolas would wonder where his thoughts had strayed.

Legolas himself had taken up residence next to the bed, in his usual chair. One of his hands held Aragorn's lifeless, cold one, while the other rested on the armrest of the chair and held his head. He felt tired.

It was not the bone weary tiredness that one felt after a long day of labouring, nor the head tiredness after a day of much reading or counselling. It was rather a tiredness that had taken possession of his whole body, mind and soul. Oh, how he wished for this to end. How he wished for this to have never happened.

Yesterday, only a few hours ago, Legolas had closed this chapter of the nightmare. And now, now it had been reopened, and he knew not how to close it once more. What would happen if Aragorn woke? Would it start all anew? All the pain, suffering and heartache?

But that was not the only thing that troubled Legolas. More than once he had caught himself looking at the letters that sat neatly on the table, and the ring of Barahir which sat upon it. He knew that the twins, Elrond, Halbarad and Gandalf had seen them as well, but none of them had even moved into the direction of the desk.

Would these letters comfort them, or break their hearts apart?

It all depended on Aragorn, Legolas mused. If he woke, they would never be read. But should he not, these letters would burn themselves into their hearts and stay there for the rest of their lives. Mortal, or immortal.

And what if Aragorn woke? How would he feel, what would he think? Would he not think that, maybe, Legolas had betrayed him by seeking help? Had Legolas not promised him to not fight him in this? Aye, he had, and then he had done the opposite and tried to rescue him.

Had he damned him to more suffering? More pain? More questions?

Looking down at the pale face, Legolas squeezed Aragorn's hand. Oh, how he hoped that his friend would forgive him for saving his life, when all the man had wanted was to die? Or, had Aragorn thought to save it, or rather his soul, by leaving them behind?

Sighing, Legolas lifted his head from his hand and began to massage his temples lightly. A headache was approaching, and he knew that all this musing would lead to only more questions. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about it, and simply wait what would come.

What else was there, then to wait?

Outside on the balcony, Elrond and Gandalf stood with their faces turned towards the cliff walls in the distance. The sun was standing directly over the valley, and its rays played with the frozen streams and white snow; a few winter birds sang in the trees, and two squirrels chased through the garden underneath the balcony.

But despite the beauty of the valley, Elrond and Gandalf's thoughts were far away from Imladris. While Elrond could not help thinking of his daughter in Lothlorien and his wife in Valinor, Gandalf tried to catch the errant thought that kept to persistently nudge him. What was it he was supposed to remember?

Without conscious thought the wizard reached into a pocket in his long tunic, took out pipe, weed, flint and stone, and began to fill the bowl of his pipe. A good smoke had always helped him to think.

He was just to light the pipe, when Elrond spoke up from his position near the balustrade. "If you do not mind, old friend, let us change places so that I stay up wind from you. I do not think that I could stand the smell right now." He accompanied his request with an apologetic smile, and Gandalf simply nodded and moved to trade places with Elrond.

He knew that Elrond had not only referred to the smell of the weed alone, but rather the fact that Aragorn himself was fond of smoking it; and despite Elrond's constant complaining, Gandalf knew that the elven Lord connected the smell not only with his Aragorn, but also with all the other heirs of Isildur that had resided at one point of their life in Imladris. Many of them had been good friends.

Puffing in silence, Gandalf let his eyes unfocus. He cleared his mind, reached out and let his thoughts drift, hoping to catch the nudging sense that plagued him. What was it? An idea…something that had been said last night.

The lilies….aye, it had something to do with the plants. Or … with the blood-letting? Frustration rose in Gandalf; why could he not remember? He took a deep breath, and a moment later he began to cough harshly, as the smoke of the pipe itched his lungs.

"Perhaps we should get back inside, Mithrandir." Elrond pounded his back for a moment. "It is cold out here."

Sighing, Gandalf put out his pipe, emptied the bowl over the balustrade and entered the room behind Elrond. Maybe he could find some answers later, at night, when the house was quiet and the world asleep.

Inside, Gandalf moved over to the hearth, nearly tripping over Elladan's longs legs as he did so. Rubbing his cold hands and turning his backside to the warm flames, he gazed across the room at the unmoving figure on the bed. Had he not known better, he would have thought that Aragorn had not improved at all.

But there he was, still breathing and alive. And all because of the Tulcoindo that Elrond had given him.

Suddenly Gandalf got stock still. The Tulcoindo….made out of a plant that only grew in late spring. A plant that strengthened the heart, that could support the body in times of need, a plant that was used as cure and poison.

Just as the lilies of the valley...

Tbc…

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**Soooo, another chapter. And in the one-week-time-limit. Yay! Well, those of you who have review the last chapter have already gotten the happy news. For all others: I am moving this weekend to a flat with no internet connection. At least until now. I am trying to fix it and update soon, but I don't know if it will work. Please, have patience, I am trying my best. :o)**

**Tell me what you think, please. No internet does not mean that I have no time to write. Who knows, maybe I present you with two or three new chapters all at once, once I am back online? Thankies!**


	45. 44 To Read Or Not To Read

**Beta: Chris, thank you so much.**

**A/N: Hello! I know this was late in coming, but as you probably know, I moved to another country and started on my very first job. To say that I was tired in the evenings would be the understatement of the year. :o) But now, I have a free weekend (well, almost), and therefore I decided to continue with the story and not let you wait any longer. Man, I have missed your emails and reviews. Let me know if you are still out there. :o)

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_--oOo--_

_"Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave  
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;  
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.  
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned."_

_(Edna St. Vincent Millay)_

_--oOo--_

_

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_

Chapter 44: To read or not to read them

The afternoon sun was setting behind the white cliff walls, bathing the valley in an orange glow. The silver moon could already been seen rising over the valley, and Legolas knew that the night would be cloudless and very cold. The stars would sparkle and shine like diamonds in a band of black velvet.

A sigh escaped Legolas's lips. He knew that the stars would not bring him solace tonight. Despite Elrond's reassurances that Aragorn was improving, he had not woken yet, and with every hour that trickled by, the tense feeling in Legolas's stomach had intensified. By now, it felt as if someone had taken his stomach and turned it into a huge knot. He was almost feeling sick.

And the fact that the twins were not talking to him, but shooting dark and almost violent looks in his direction, did not help his situation any. The whole afternoon the twins had sat in their chairs in front of the hearth, either fixing him with their gazes, as if they wanted to read his mind, or talking in hushed whispers, while Elrond, Gandalf and Halbarad came and went continuously.

Gandalf had taken Elrond to the side some hours ago, and the two had left the room, probably to talk. When Elrond returned to check on Aragorn, his face looked less tense and less worried, but he said nothing, and if Legolas was honest with himself, he did not truly want to know.

What if Elrond had good news for them, but Aragorn did never wake? Would that not make the whole thing even worse?

//Can it get any worse?// Legolas thought gloomily, only to cringe inwardly the next moment.

"Dan?" Elrohir asked when his brother got to his feet and walked slowly over to the old desk that stood in front of one of the windows. The desk was littered with cups, bowls and herbs, some papers and quills, and other utensils.

And in the very centre sat the letters that Aragorn had written the previous night. His farewell letters.

Legolas's heart beat frantically in his chest. He had not told the twins of the letters, and he had hoped that they would either not find them, or not read them. Whatever it was that Aragorn had written, the content of these letters would more likely than not break the twins' heart.

//_And my own.//_ Legolas thought.

Scraping all his courage together, Legolas took a deep breath. His voice was shaking and softer than he had wished for it to be. "Elladan, I do not think you should…"

"Should what?" Elladan answered harshly, looking over his shoulder at Legolas. Turning back to the desk, he sifted through the letters, then stopped and held one of them into the air for Legolas to see. "This letter is addressed to me. So it is mine. And if I want to read it that is entirely my own decision."

Elladan practically hissed, his eyes cold as ice. There was anger and hurt in his voice but also confusion and fear. He could not understand why his human brother had done what he had done, and for a moment, Elladan looked…helpless.

"Elladan, I do not think Aragorn would have wanted you to read them." Legolas tried again, squeezing Aragorn's hand in his own.

Snorting, Elladan turned the letter in his shaking hands. "Then he should not have written it."

Elrohir held his breath, unsure whether his brother would really open the letter or not. Legolas, on the other hand, could not keep quiet.

"Elladan! How can you say that? Estel wrote those letters because he wanted for us to know why he did that. What those letters contain is personal and from his heart. I am sure that now that he will live, at least for now, he would not want you to read them."

Shaking his letter through the air, Elladan raised his voice, "You should talk, Legolas! Who was it that with him when he did what he did? Who could have stopped him from drinking the Moruthond, huh?"

Paling, Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but before he had managed to utter more than an unarticulate sound, Elladan pointed the letter at him, "This is your fault, Legolas. How could you let him do that?"

Then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"By Elbereth." Elrohir breathed. "He cannot truly mean that. Dan,…" Elrohir shook his head, then tore his eyes away from the empty doorway to look at Legolas.

Caught between the urge to follow his brother and his wish to stay, Elrohir looked from Legolas and Aragorn to the door and back a few times, before he shook his head and sprinted after his brother. The door to Aragorn's room closed loudly behind him.

For a few moments, Legolas sat still on the bed, holding Aragorn's hand while he listened to the twins' leaving footsteps. And even after they had stopped, he sat in silence with only the crackling fire and Aragorn's soft breathing as company.

And then, his eyes slowly travelled across the item strewn floor until they reached the spot where most of the letters had landed. From his position on the bed, Legolas could not tell if his letter was lying there as well, or someplace else, but try as he might, he could not take his eyes away from the letters.

The urge to get up, take the letters and destroy them rose in him.

Before he had truly decided what to do, his legs had moved and he had crouched down on the floor in front of the pile of letters. He saw the letter addressed to Elrond, the one for Arwen, and then, there, right under the letter that was addressed to Halbarad, was his letter.

He hesitated , his fingertips hovering only an inch above the letter, but then he picked it up and gazed at it for a moment. His name stood in bold black letters on the front, in Aragorn's unmistakable handwriting.

To see his name on this letter, so as it was, made Legolas swallow thickly. He was a warrior, and he knew that many Mirkwood elves had written letters such as these, as had many rangers; they were precautions, and every time one of these letters had to be opened, a heart would shatter, bleed and eventually shrivel and die. Or sail.

And his name,…it looked so neat. Legolas could see no hesitation in the ink or the swing of the letters, and for a moment he imagined Aragorn sitting at the desk, in the light of only the fire, writing this letter. Had he hesitated at all?

A tear rolled down Legolas's cheek, and he had to press a hand over his mouth to stifle the sob that rose in his throat. For a moment his mind was completely blank, before thousands of thoughts raced through it.

While he stared at the letters…fury…rose in him. What had Aragorn thought he would achieve with these letters? Make them feel better? Explain his actions?

Well, this letter in his hand, opened or not, made him certainly not feel better!

Legolas wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. With tears still clinging to his eyelashes, he turned his head and looked out of the window. The moon was shining brightly, and the first stars had appeared in the night sky.

For countless minutes he sat there, staring out of the window at the darkening sky, his thoughts racing through his mind in a confused jumble. So immersed in his thoughts was he that he practically jumped when he heard a hoarse cough from the bed.

"Estel!"

--oOo--

"Dan! Please, slow down." Elrohir chased after his furious brother, avoiding frowning servants as he went.

"Elladan, please, talk to me." His voice was slowly nearing a pleading tone, and when his older brother would neither slow down nor speak to him, Elrohir turned to more drastic measures.

Taking three great steps, Elrohir grabbed Elladan's right elbow, yanked his brother back, and brought him to a full stop. Elladan whirled around, his face contorted in anger, and for a moment Elrohir thought that his brother would slap him.

But Elladan only frowned and opened his mouth, surely to give his brother a loud tongue lashing. Elrohir never gave him the chance.

"Dan, listen! Think! Why did you say that?"

"Why should I not?" Elladan practically shouted, his body tense and poised to flee. Elrohir tightened his grip on his brother's elbow.

"Because you just did something you will later regret, and you know that." Elrohir stated, tugging at Elladan's arm for emphasis.

Breathing furiously, Elladan shook his head. "He was there, Ro. With him. When he did that. He could have stopped him, but he did not! How can you stay so calm?"

"I can stay so calm because, because…" Elrohir waved his free arm through the air, searching for words. When he opened his mouth like a fish on dry land for a few times, Elladan smiled triumphantly.

"See, Ro? That is exactly what I mean." Elladan twisted his elbow out of his brother's grasp, and in the next moment he was on his way down the hallway again. Elrohir sighed, shot a look at the ceiling so as if to summon help before he swiftly followed his brother.

"Elladan, please."

"No."

"Dan, please." Elrohir tried again, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.

Elladan stopped once more in his steps, so suddenly that Elrohir took a few more steps before he noticed that his brothers had stopped.

"Elrohir, you were there. Estel was almost gone." When Elrohir nodded, Elladan continued, "Then you know why I feel the way I feel."

"Legolas is Estel's best friend. He would die for him." Elrohir said softly, but with passion.

Sighing, Elladan bit his bottom lip, but he made no further attempt to run down the hallway into the direction of the wing where the rangers had been lodged.

"Dan," Elrohir said and placed his hand gently on his brother's arm. He could feel Elladan's tense muscles through the fabric of his tunic. "I am not happy about what happened, but I do not think Legolas made his decision to not stop him lightly."

Elladan swallowed. "Estel was so young when he joined the rangers. We could have spend so much more time with him."

"He was twenty, Elladan, and he had been hunting the foul servants of Sauron with us for some years already. It was time for him to get to know his people." And in a softer tone, he added, "We have sheltered him as long as we could, Dan. It was time."

As if all the anger had suddenly decided to leave his body, Elladan's shoulders sagged and he bowed his head. "I know. He, he is still so young and has not even seen what age can do to a mortal. He has not seen his best friend die in battle, or of sickness. There is so much more that he has to go through, to suffer through. Had he stayed here, this…all of this would not happened. And Ro, what did happen to him while he was with the rangers that made him try to kill himself without even telling us?"

Before Elrohir could answer, Halbarad spoke up from behind Elladan, "Life has happened."

--oOo--

"Estel?"

Legolas jumped to his feet, accidentally slipping on the scattered papers and quills. He swayed precariously for a moment before he found his balance, and a second later he was at the side of the bed and placed a hand on Aragorn's cheek.

"Estel, can you hear me?" he asked agitatedly, his voice a notch higher than usual.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then Aragorn moaned weakly and turned his head into the direction of Legolas's voice. His eyelids fluttered tentatively, but he did not open them.

"Estel, please, wake up." Rubbing his thumb in soothing circles over Aragorn's still too pale cheek, Legolas stared intently at Aragorn's face, as if his gaze alone could wake him up. Aragorn moaned again weakly, then coughed dryly. His face turned into a grimace of pain for a moment, before Aragorn tried to roll on his side and draw up his knees as if in pain.

Not really knowing what to do, Legolas placed his other hand at Aragorn's other cheek and raised his voice. "Estel, wake up. You have slept long enough, wake up now."

The eyelids fluttered again before Aragorn blinked sluggishly. He seemed to have problems holding his eyes open, and when they stayed opened for some seconds, Legolas was not sure if Aragorn was truly seeing him or not.

This concern vanished when Aragorn opened dry lips and asked hoarsely, "L-Legolas?"

"Aye, Estel, it's me," Legolas said, not taking his hands from Aragorn's face. The knot that his stomach had turned into had suddenly un-knotted itself, and he felt as if he had been lifted high into the air. Aragorn was awake and alert.

Aragorn blinked a few more times before he let his eyes roam across his room. When his eyes settled back on Legolas's face, tears glimmered in them.

"Legolas, why?"

And in that moment, Legolas's stomach lost its wings and crashed down to earth.

--oOo--

The twins gazed at Halbarad as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. It was Elladan who spoke first, "What do you mean, life has happened?"

Coming closer, Halbarad shrugged his shoulders. "Do you not know that? You have ridden with the Dunedain for most of your life; you know what life is like."

Elrohir shook his head. "We know what life is like, yes. But I do not understand…"

For a long moment Halbarad looked at the twins, his eyes searching, until he sighed deeply. "I never knew…Perhaps we should go somewhere more private."

Without waiting for the twins' consent, he strode down the corridor towards his room, opened the door and entered. Elladan and Elrohir locked their eyes and some connetction seemed to establish.. Then, they turned as one and followed Halbarad into his room, closing the door behind them.

Inside the room it looked messy. Halbarad's pack lay open on the floor, clothing, weapons and several satchels pouring out of it. A belt, some tunics and what looked to be a spare cloak covered most of the bed, whose blankets were unmade. There was no fire in the hearth, the wood still piled neatly in it. It looked as if Halbarad had not even taken the time to clean his gear since he had arrived.

And truly, who could blame him?

Elladan and Elrohir stayed close to the door, leaning against the wall while Halbarad had taken up a position by the small window. The only light in the room came from some candles, but the moon was by now shining so brightly that the whole room was bathed in a silver light.

Elladan was still feeling somewhat upset, and so he could not help himself but ask brusquely, "So, what is it we do not understand? Tell me!"

Halbarad sighed and crossed his arms defensively across his chest, while he leaned on the window sill. "Your argument was about Aragorn, was it not? Has he awoken?"

"Yes, it was. And no, he has not yet woken, but Ada is sure he will wake soon," Elrohir said. While Elladan was at the same time upset and deflated, Elrohir was simply confused. "Halbarad, please, what did Estel mean when he said that for him, life was only pain?"

Halbarad sighed once more, as if he was not sure where to begin. Then, he shrugged again. "You have ridden with the Dunedain for many, many years. You have seen many good men been born, grow up and die, either in battle or because of old age. You fought at our side, ate with us, celebrated with us. But I ask you now; did you truly live with us?"

In the silver moonlight, Halbarad's grey eyes had turned a shade darker, and for a moment he looked so much older than his mortal years. His face lost his youthfulness, and there were lines that had not been there previously. It was uncanny.

Swallowing, Elladan asked, "What do you mean? Of course we lived with the Dunedain…"

A sad smile graced Halbarad's face and he shook his head. "I do not think so. No, how could you, being elves?"

Elrohir wanted to protest, but Halbarad cut him off, "No, let me finish, please." The twins nodded, and he continued.

"You have been with us in the spring when the rivers are overflowing and the meadows are flooded. Have you ever sunken into the mud up to your knees, with your boots filling with slick, so that you have to walk for days with wet socks?

"In the summer, when it is so hot that you can barely move, with your clothing clinging to your skin and the insects drinking your blood, have you ever felt the dizziness that accompanies the lack of water or shade? The feeling that, if you do not sit down immediately, you will black out?

"In autumn, when it storms and hails, with mist and rain, have you ever felt the first signs of a cold? With shivers that rake your body, then the fever? The headache, blocked nose, aching throat and kidneys? The dry feeling of a cough in your throat, the pain that accompanies each swallow of water and each breath you take?

"And in winter, when the world is white with snow, have you ever felt so cold that you have huddled close to your horse to not freeze to death? Have you felt the frightening feeling when your fingers go numb, and your toes, and you wonder if you will lose them? And then the pain, when feeling returns to them, as if a millions tiny needles prick you, and you only wish for it to stop, but are at the same time grateful that you can feel something?"

The twins said nothing, simply stared at Halbarad, and so he continued.

"When we ride into battle, we know that we could be injured and die. Our loved ones know that. You could die, too, when you fight at our side. But when you are injured, you heal so much more quickly then we do. And an injury that is merely a nuisance to you, could mean live long impediment for us.

"Headaches, pain in the muscles, stiffness, sickness, illness, injuries, old age." Halbarad uncrossed his arms and spread his arms. "Life is pain. And to the pain of the body comes the pain of the mind."

Here he stopped, averting his gaze from the twins. It was silent in the room. None of them said a word, until Halbarad gazed back at the twins and said softly, "It was not the Dunedain that changed Aragorn's opinion of life, but it was life itself. And if he decided to end it in his own way, then it was his right to do so, for he has surely learned enough about life to know what will await him."

Confused, Elladan pointed his finger at Halbarad. "But, you were the one who was so against him rewriting the succession rules among the Dunedain!"

Swallowing, Halbarad studied his feet for a few seconds, before he answered, "That was before…before I realized what he really goes through."

A pregnant silence filled the room, before Elladan nodded. "In the last few days, so many things have happened. First I thought we would all die, then Ro and I know we will life. Then Ada finds a cure, or at least a way to help Estel, and then he…he." His voice cracked and Elladan took a deep breath.

"You know that all the active rangers write farewell letter to their family, do you? And that these letters are kept by the families?" Halbarad asked and the twins nodded. It was a common practice among the serving Dunedain.

"Aragorn never wrote one." Halbarad said with a sad smile. "He said a letter could never express his feelings towards those he loves. And it would only be a reminder for them of his own mortality. He thought it not fair."

A single tear rolled down Elrohir's face, and Elladan gazed at the floor. "I did not know."

"Neither did I, although we spend so much time with the rangers," Elrohir added. "Why did he never say a thing?"

"He did not want for you to worry," Halbarad said. The twins looked at him, startled, and Halbarad continued, "It was difficult for him at the beginning, you know. Life with the Dunedain was so different from the life he had known. Of course he had been on patrol before, but it had been with elves, and elvish patrols are nothing like the patrols of the rangers, as you well know.

"Aragorn told me one day, that…that only since he lived with the Dunedain, he had truly understood what being mortal is like."

In the light of the silver moon, Elladan and Elrohir gazed at each other, before they slowly sat down on the bed. There was so much that they had to think about.

--oOo--

"Why?" Legolas repeated surprised. "Estel, Lord Elrond found a way to save you and therefore….."

An emotion flickered through Aragorn's eyes, but it came and went so quickly that Legolas was not sure what he had seen. Tilting his head to the side and swallowing dryly, Aragorn closed his eyes.

When he said nothing more, Legolas released his face and sat down on the edge of the bed instead. "Estel? How do you feel?"

Releasing a shuddering breath and grimacing a little as if in pain, Aragorn shook his head sadly, "I trusted you, Legolas. Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Tell my father. Get him to save me."

It was as if a fist had landed in Legolas's stomach, and for a moment he was speechless. He had known that Aragorn would blame him, had actually expected it. But to hear it now was so much more painful than simply imagining this moment.

When Legolas did not answer immediately, Aragorn rolled slowly onto his side, turning his back on his friend. Another dry cough escaped his lips, and with another painful jolt in his stomach, Legolas realized that Aragorn must be in some pain after the ordeal he had been through.

Reaching out, Legolas took a cup from the nightstand, filled it with water and turned back to Aragorn. "Estel, you need to drink something. It will ease the pain in your throat."

But Aragorn said nothing, did not even move to acknowledge Legolas's words.

"Estel?" The cup with the water shook slightly in Legolas's hand, and a bit of the cool liquid splashed onto the bed covers. "Estel? Please. Look at me and let me explain."

To Legolas's immense relief, his pleading tone caused Aragorn to open his eyes, and he turned his head in Legolas's direction. Aragorn's eyes, as bloodshot as they were, gazed at Legolas, and the hurt and betrayal that Legolas read in them stole his breath away.

"Estel, I…" He began, wishing to tell his friend why he was still alive, what had happened. He wanted to tell him that he had not betrayed him, at least not in the way that Aragorn suspected; Legolas wanted to tell his friend all that and more.

But before he could say a single word, the door to the room opened and Elrond entered, followed closely by Gandalf.

"Estel! By Elbereth, you are awake." Elrond hasted to the bedside and immediately began to check Aragorn over. For the next few minutes, Elrond spoke without a break, giving Legolas, Gandalf and Aragorn himself an accurate account of his health. Finally, Elrond pulled the coverlets back up under Aragorn's chin, then sat down on the bed and patted Aragorn's leg in a fatherly gesture.

"You gave us quite a scare, my son. But from what I can see, you will suffer no lasting effects. And the pain you feel in your throat, chest and head will disappear with time and the proper care. I will prepare a tea for you that will ease your discomfort. But before I do that, I think it is time for us to talk."

Elrond locked his eyes with Aragorn's, causing Aragorn to avert his gaze. He coughed once more and grimaced slightly. Elrond's eyes travelled to the nightstand, but when he saw that the cup with water was gone, he searched the room and finally found it in Legolas's hands.

"Legolas, give me the cup, please," Elrond said, and there was an unmistakable coldness in his voice that cut through the room like an elvish arrow through flesh and bone.

Legolas handed the cup over and got up from his position on the bed. He more felt than saw Gandalf's gaze on him, but he did not look at the wizard. He had known that Aragorn would blame him for saving his life, and from the behaviour of the twins he had known that they blamed him for not stopping Aragorn from drinking the Moruthond. But now Elrond, too?

As silent as a cat, Legolas retreated towards the fireplace, and watched from there how Elrond made Aragorn drink some of the water. Aragorn flinched slightly the first few times he swallowed, and Legolas had no trouble imagining the pain he must feel in his throat. To be forced to retch while unconscious was not a pleasant experience, and the Tulcoindo that had been poured down his throat must not have tasted good, either.

The cup was only half empty when Elrond replaced it on the nightstand and turned his searching eyes once more on his son. His voice was not exactly soft when he spoke with Aragorn, but it missed the stern edge it had held when he had spoken to Legolas.

"Estel, why did you do that? What drove you to do that?"

A sigh escaped Aragorn's lips, and he averted his gaze, but Elrond placed his hand under Aragorn's chin and forced his head around so that his gaze met his.

"I am not angry, Estel. I simply do not understand."

"How could you," Aragorn said softly, but none of the elves had problems understanding him; and from the quirk in Gandalf's beard, he had heard, too.

"Estel?" Elrond took his hand away and sat back a bit, confused.

Biting his bottom lip, Aragorn drew in a deep breath. "Why did you bring me back? Why could you not let me go?" There was almost a pleading tone in his voice, and to Legolas he sounded suddenly like a young child that asked his father why his kitty had to die.

"But Estel, drinking Moruthond is no solution. Giving up your life was no solution." Elrond's tone got a bit sharper.

"It was the only way there was, and it was a solution," Aragorn protested. His voice sounded still hoarse, and Legolas longed to take the cup and give his friend some more water. Instead, he stood where he was, unmoving and silent.

Shaking his head, Elrond breathed heavily. "It was the wrong way, Estel. Have you, only for a moment, thought about what you did? What you did to you … and us?"

"Of course I have!" Aragorn tried to get up in bed, but Elrond pushed him back into the cushions. "Do you think I did this out of a whim? I have thought about it long and hard. It was my decision. My life."

An artery began to pound at Elrond's temple, and Legolas could tell that the Lord of Imladris was trying to control his emotions. "Your decision?" he asked almost civilly. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say that your decision did not only affect you, Estel, but all of us. Why, your death would affect the whole of Middle-earth. Have you thought about that?"

Something changed in Aragorn's eyes, and Legolas cringed a second before Aragorn even spoke, knowing what he would say even before he did so.

"Then you are only upset because of my destiny?"

Elrond opened his mouth to say something, the vein at his temple pounding stronger than ever. Legolas knew that he had not meant what he had said, and that he had only spoken so harshly to Aragorn because he had been so afraid to lose his son, still was, actually, but before Elrond had the chance to say anything, Gandalf spoke up from where he stood close to the door.

"I think it is time for young Estel to rest. And Elrond, my old friend, do you not want to inform the twins that their brother has awoken? And young Halbarad?"

Elrond did not look at Gandalf, his eyes still fixed on Aragorn.

"Elrond, now," Gandalf added, and to Legolas's surprise Elrond nodded, then got to his feet. He tucked the bedcover back under Aragorn's chin before he turned to the door.

"I will prepare your tea and tell your brothers and Halbarad that you have woken. You should rest now. We can talk later." Elrond gave Aragorn a look that clearly said that he wanted to say more, then turned and left the room.

"I am glad that you have woken, Aragorn," Gandalf said warmly and followed Elrond, who was already down the hall and at the stairs.

When the door had closed behind the wizard, an uneasy silence filled the room.

Unsure what to do, Legolas crossed over to the bed, but he did not sit down. Instead, he stood there, and gazed down at Aragorn, who stared out of the window at the bright moon and the silver twinkling stars.

"Estel, I am sorry."

"I should rest," Aragorn said, then closed his eyes and turned over, once more presenting his back to Legolas.

"Estel, please…."

"Not now, Legolas. Please, I…not now."

Feeling tears prick his eyes, Legolas nodded bravely. "Of course. I will let you rest, then." For a moment, Legolas stood next to the bed, before he made his way over to the balcony door and stepped out into the freezing night. A glance back over his shoulder a few moments later told him that Aragorn had fallen asleep.

And so Legolas turned his gaze skywards, where the tiny pinpricks of silver light sparkled and danced. He had known that they would not be able to comfort him tonight, and he had been right.

Would things ever be like they had been before?

--oOo—

"Elrond, wait," Gandalf called after his friend, but Elrond did not slow down his pace.

"Elrond, I know you are upset, but please, so is he." Gandalf tried again, his voice carrying through the hallway. To his own surprise, Elrond stopped in his tracks and whirled around.

"HE is upset? HE is upset?" Small red dots formed on Elrond's cheeks. "I save his life and he is upset?"

Coming to a halt in front of Elrond, Gandalf huffed a bit breathlessly after his sprint, before he shook his head gently. "Estel is confused. Afraid. In pain. He did not anticipate to wake up. To have to face you."

Frowning, Elrond shrugged with his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "He practically accused me of saving him, Gandalf!"

"Aye, and were you in his situation you would have reacted in the same way."

"I,…. what?"

Placing a gnarled hand on Elrond's shoulder, Gandalf turned him around and steered him gently down the hallway. "Estel is still young, so very young, even for one of the Dunedain. But already he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. It must be scary sometimes..

"And then, all of those horrible things happened in the last weeks. No one should have been forced to go through that. No one."

They reached another corridor, and Gandalf steered them down the left one, which would lead them to the wing where the rangers were housed. Elrond did not even bother to ask why they were headed in that direction, or why Gandalf seemed to know where the twins were.

Elrond's face was turned to the floor, but he was listening intently to what Gandalf had to say.

"Elrond, during my long life I have seen a lot, maybe more than you have." Gandalf chuckled softly, but when Elrond did not react, he sighed and continued.

"For the Second Born, death is part of their world. Of everyday life. It is nothing that can be avoided, and even small children know –somehow- that they will die one day. I don't know how they know that, but they do.

"And Estel, he has seen much more pain and death already than is healthy for him. His decision to end his own life after all of those nightmarish experiences, and in the knowledge that things will only get worse for him, is understandable."

Here, Elrond lifted his head and opened his mouth to comment, but Gandalf stopped him with a raised finger. "No, let me finish."

Elornd's frown deepened. He was not used to being told to shut up in his own home. But Gandalf was his friend, and he was willing to listen if he could bring some light into this confusing darkness.

"I do not think he made that decision lightly, Elrond. I am more than sure that it was very, very hard for him. But, see it this way. From the very moment that he understood that he is no elf, that he is mortal, he knew that –one day- he would die and leave you all behind. Either that, or that you would sail to the Undying Land, and leave him alone. He always knew that. And to end it now, rather than wait for the inevitable to happen, is logic, in a way."

They reached a flight of stairs and descended it slowly. Elrond used the time to think about what Gandalf had said. Of course he had known all these things. Imladris had housed the heirs of Isildur for centuries, after all, and his own brother had chosen mortality. But, to hear these words now, in connection with his own son, and spoken by an Istar…that made things so different. Somehow clearer. More obvious. As if a smoky cloud that had lain on the truth all these years had been blown away.

Elrond sighed deeply, and Gandalf took it as a sign to continue.

"Estel did what he did to save him and you from more pain and suffering. And, he did it in the knowledge that he would not have to face you about it."

"But that does not change what he did, Gandalf," Elrond interrupted.

"No, it does not," the wizard answered softly. "But it is important to understand his motives and his reaction to still being alive."

"Mithrandir…"

"Elrond, Estel never meant to have to explain to you and those he loves why he wanted to die. I think, deep inside, he probably feels that what he did was cowardly."

Elrond's head whipped around, but again Gandalf stopped him with his raised hand.

"Elrond, I could understand it if Estel does now feel as if he has betrayed you, your trust, and that you think him a coward for doing what he did."

"I do not," Elrond said quickly.

"I know that, mellon nin. And I, for one, do not think that what he did was cowardly. It was maybe a bit too early and foolish, but not cowardly."

They reached the guest wing, and stopped in their tracks.

"Elrond, Estel's reaction to being alive is only understandable. He is confused, feels betrayed, is afraid. It is only natural to act defensive in such a situation. What he needs now is time, and understanding father, brothers and friends. Give him time, Elrond. Let him come to terms with this before you talk to him again. Please, trust me in this."

Taking a deep breath, Elrond looked down the hallway. After what seemed like some minutes, he looked back at Gandalf. "I almost lost my son. I am not willing to risk what we have now. And I trust you."

And with that, Elrond strode down the corridor towards the room Halbarad used during his stay.

Tbc…

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**You know what, I just realized that I have started this story over A YEAR ago. Unbelievable. I want to say a huge THANK YOU for all the support you gave me.**

**Now, what do you think of this new chapter? --hint hint--**


	46. 45 Some Comfort Here

**Beta: Chris **

**Warning: This chapter should not be read while eating. It may cause sensitive readers to feel unwell. You have been warned. The rest of you: Have fun!

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**

--oOo--

"_Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."_

_(J.R.R. Tolkien)_

--oOo--

* * *

Chapter 45: Some Comfort Here

The night passed rather uneventfully. The good news that Aragorn had woken spread in only a short time, and most of the elves and rangers, including Halbarad, who found that sleep claimed them easily this night.

Of course, not all residents went to sleep. Neither Elrond nor Legolas found the peace of mind to lay down; they stayed up throughout the night, Elrond in his study and Legolas sitting next to Aragorn. The twins had taken up their usual positions in the armchairs near the hearth in Aragorn's room, but they had fallen asleep around midnight.

Legolas and the twins had not talked much, but the tension that had been between them when Elladan had stormed out of the room had lessened somewhat, for which Legolas was grateful. He did not know what had happened while the twins had been away, but there was a change in Elladan's facial expression and in his eyes. Legolas had not been very keen on finding out what had caused the change or what it meant for him, but he suspected that he would find out soon enough.

Halbarad, on the other hand, had slept soundly during the night. His talk with the twins had lightened his heart somewhat, although he was not exactly sure why that was so. Maybe because he had wanted to speak with the twins about such matters for some time now.

The light of dawn was breaking through the windows of the house, and some early morning birds were singing in the snowy gardens. A fresh breeze blew over the valley, bringing the smell of new snow, although the sky was of a brilliant blue, dotted with shiny white clouds. Winter Solstice was still a few weeks away, but already the air was as cold as ice

Taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the freezing air, Legolas watched the sun rise behind the white cliff walls. His long braids fluttered in the breeze, and after a few more moments Legolas closed the window to keep the warmth of the fire in the room. It would not do for Aragorn to become chilled. Legolas stayed by the window, enjoying the wintry view, his thoughts neither here nor there. Oh, he was so tired. He had not slept in…how many days? His shoulder had started to ache slightly, too, no doubt due to his state of constant wakefulness. Although elves were more resilient than most other races, even they needed some rest from time to time. But right now, Legolas was too tired to sleep.

A small brown bird landed on the balustrade of the balcony, hopping around and twittering. Its feet left tiny tracks in the snow, and Legolas smiled when the bird spread its wings to bathe in the sun.

A soft rustle behind him brought him out of his thoughts, and Legolas quickly turned around to the bed. Another rustle reached his ears when Aragorn rolled over in his sleep, before he flinched slightly and shifted again under the covers. Legolas stood stock still, did not move, but threw a look in the direction of the twins. Both were still sound asleep.

On the bed, Aragorn turned once more before he sighed in his sleep. A moment later, he opened his eyes sluggishly, blinking against the bright morning sunlight. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed again, then rolled over onto his back, scratching his chest lightly.

"Good morning, Legolas," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

"And a good morning to you, Estel." Legolas was not sure what to do. Should he go over to the bed, ask Aragorn how he was feeling, or should he stay where he was, maintaining some distance? Was his friend still angry with him?

In front of the hearth, unbeknownst to either Legolas or Aragorn, the twins had awoken and were following the events silently.

Aragorn took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but he turned his head a bit in the direction of the sun, letting the warm rays play across his face. For a few moments neither of the two said anything. It was Aragorn, who broke the silence first, his voice sounding tired.

"What happened, Legolas? What made you reconsider your promise?"

Swallowing, Legolas shook his head slowly. "I did not reconsider my promise, Estel."

"Then what happened, Legolas? Why did you call my father?" Aragorn did not look at Legolas, but instead gazed at the ceiling, his good hand lying on his chest.

Taking a step closer to the bed, Legolas took a deep breath and after a moment of hesitation, he plunged right ahead.

"But I did not call him! Estel, that night, when I told you I would let you go, I did that because I thought you would die because of the poison. I did what I thought best for you. And it was your wish. But then, then things changed." Legolas took another step closer to the bed, wishing that Aragorn would turn his head and look at him.

"Estel, your father found a way to save you!" he blurted out, his voice a bit higher than usual in his eagerness to make Aragorn understand.

A frustrated smile hushed across Aragorn's face. "Has he? For how long, Legolas? Another day? Another week? A month?"

"No, he has found a way to cure you, Estel! Forever. Well, if it goes as planned," Legolas said, tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear and ignoring the small stab of pain this movement caused his injured shoulder.

Another sigh left Aragorn's lips and he rubbed his chest lightly. "Legolas, there is no cure, we know that."

"But there is! Estel, your father has found a way to save you. Have you understood what I said?" Legolas was so close to the bed now that he could smell the wax from the candle on the nightstand.

"I heard you," Aragorn said softly, still rubbing his chest. "Has he told you of that so called cure before…or after you called him to stop me?"

Frustration rose in Legolas, "I did not call him. He came in here in the morning and when he saw what had happened, he saved you."

Shaking his head slightly, Aragorn took another deep breath. "Legolas…"

But before he could finish his sentence, Legolas lifted his hand and stalled any further words. "No. Now you listen to me, Estel. I did not call him. Did you hear me? I did not call him!"

Frustration and tiredness turned suddenly into anger and agitation, causing Legolas to start pacing in front of the bed.

"You want to know what happened, Estel? Do you really want to know? You almost died, that happened!" Legolas gave Aragorn a hurt glare before he resumed his pacing. His arms performed agitated movements, while his voice rose with every word he said.

"That night, I sat on that bed, with you, watching you drink the Moruthond, then fall asleep in my arms. Do you know how long it took me till I was able to let go of you and lay you down on the bed, Estel? And then, then I just sat there and waited. Watched. Hours, Estel! You started having problems breathing, your skin felt like ice. And I? I just sat there and did nothing, although your brothers and father were just a few rooms away. Although they could have helped you. I watched you die, Estel! Do you have the slightest idea how I felt while I watched over you?

"I thought I must die, too, because my heart hurt so much. It hurt so incredibly, Estel. And do you know why I did that? Because I promised. When I make a promise, I keep it. That is why I seldom make promises."

His whole energy spent, Legolas turned back to Aragorn, who was watching him silently. With a tired voice that was nevertheless filled with emotion, Legolas locked his eyes with Aragorn's.

"I kept my promise, Aragorn. But things have changed, and maybe it is time now to make new ones."

Something flickered through Aragorn's eyes, too fast for Legolas to identify. For a seemingly endless moment neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Aragorn stretched out his arm, and held his hand up invitingly to Legolas.

Legolas's heart did a somersault in his chest, and with a choked sob he rushed to the bed, took Aragorn's hand, and squeezed it tightly. Aragorn returned the squeeze.

"Legolas, I am sorry for what I said. I should not have blamed you."

Smiling, Legolas shook his head and sat down on the mattress. "Do not worry, Estel. I can understand why you did that. We will talk about everything once you are better."

Giving Legolas a smile that did not reach his eyes, Aragorn scratched his chest lightly before he sighed deeply, "Tell me of that cure, Legolas. What new devilry has my father managed to come up with?"

Suddenly, Elladan's voice came from the back of the room. "No devilry, brother. A ray of hope."

Together with Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir relayed Elrond's plan, but if they had thought that Aragorn would be relieved to hear that they had found a cure, they were mistaken.

"This is ridiculous." Aragorn sat up in bed and shook his head. "It is crazy."

"It is a way to save you, Estel," Elrohir said, trying to make his brother understand.

Giving his brothers and Legolas an incredulous stare, Aragorn lifted an eyebrow in a way that made him look very much like Elrond. "Save me? By letting me bleed out like some butchered animal in a farmer's yard?"

Crossing his arms defensively across his chest, Elladan narrowed his eyes. He had not yet forgotten his feeling of utter helplessness and pain upon finding out that Aragorn had tried to commit suicide, and his feelings were making his voice a notch sharper than intended.

"Well, that is certainly better than drinking Moruthond, you know. At least you have a chance of surviving with Ada's treatment."

Absently rubbing his chest with his good hand, Aragorn took a steadying breath. "I know we have not yet talked about this, but if you want to…"

"No." Elladan shook his head vehemently. "Not yet. When you are feeling better."

Nodding, Aragorn said no more, but there was no need to. They all knew that there would come a time to talk about all the things that had happened, why they had happened and what the actions had broken or damaged beyond repair. But it was not this day, and deep inside Aragorn was glad that his brother had rejected his offer to talk about his decision to end his life right now.

Sinking back into the cushions, Aragorn sighed once more and rubbed his chest more vigorously. "Has Ada said anything about when he wants to do that?"

"No, he has not." Elrohir sat down on the mattress, eyeing Aragorn with narrowed eyes. "And given the circumstances I think he will wait until you have recovered from the Moruthond and the Tulcoindo. After all, Tulcoindo is a toxin in itself, although it can heal, too."

"It certainly tastes like a toxin," Aragorn stated wryly. "I think I can still taste it, although I was unconscious when I drunk it."

Reaching over to the nightstand, Legolas poured a cup of water. "Here, drink some of the water, it will help."

Taking the cup from Legolas, Aragorn drank eagerly. His throat still hurt, even after the rest he had taken, and it felt dry and parched. The cup was emptied rather quickly, and with a small smile Legolas refilled it.

"Hannon le, Legolas." Instead of gulping the water down, Aragorn drank more slowly this time. But halfway through the cup, he began to become restless, shifting his position form one side to the other. Some of the water splashed onto the covers, and with a frustrated sigh, Aragorn bent over and replaced the cup on the nightstand before he began to scratch his chest with his good hand. Flinching when his broken ribs protested, Aragorn sighed.

"I am so glad when these bandages come off. They are more a nuisance than a help."

"Ada has changed the bandages regularly," Elrohir stated, shifting closer to Aragorn. "They should not itch."

"But they do." Aragorn shot back, rubbing even more strongly and looking around his room as if in search of a more suitable scratching tool than his fingers.

"Let me see, Estel," Elrohir said, and before Aragorn could protest, he slapped his scratching hand away from Aragorn's chest and lifted his shirt. "The bandages look fine, Estel. Maybe a bit frayed now."

"But it itches horribly," Aragorn complained, already seeking a way to evade Elrohir's hands to resume his scratching. The itch was so strong now that it pained him more than the broken ribs he was aggravating.

"I will get Ada. He can have a look at the bandages. I am sure he wants to talk to you anyway." Elrohir got to his feet and left the room.

Sitting down on Elrohir's recently vacated spot, Legolas tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear. "You know Estel, scratching will make the itch only worse."

Giving his friend a stare that clearly stated how much Aragorn cared about that right now, Aragorn resumed his scratching; his fingertips had already turned slightly red from all the rubbing.

Silence settled on the room, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric and the small grunts of either relief or frustration coming from Aragorn when he managed to reach an itch or not.

The longer they waited, the more uncomfortable the silence became. Elladan would not look at Legolas, and Legolas made no effort to start a conversation either. So, after seemingly endless minutes of silence, Aragorn heaved a great sigh. He knew very well why his brother and friend did not talk with each other. He knew both long enough that something must have happened between them, and given the circumstances, it could only have to do with what he had done. So, it was his duty to make things right again.

"Dan, Legolas, I know that I have caused you both much pain. I wish I could say that I regret what I have done, but I do not. Not yet, anyway. But what I did I did because I wanted it and no one could have stopped me from doing that.

"Legolas, had you stopped me that night, I would have found another way. But I am sorry that I made you watch. So sorry. And Elladan, I…."

But Elladan raised his hand, effectively interrupting his brother. "No, Estel. Not now. Let us talk when you feel better. When things are brighter than they are now." Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Elladan shot a quick look in Legolas's direction before he continued.

"Legolas, I…I must apologize. The things I said, although I meant them at the time, should not have been directed at you. I do not blame you, not really. I think I lay the blame on me."

Giving Elladan an incredulous look, Aragorn opened his mouth to refute this statement, but again Elladan cut him off, "No, Estel. Certainly, the blame lies mostly with you, that is not what I meant. What I meant is that I think it is always easier to blame others, when one is angry with oneself.

"I knew that you hurt, Estel. That you were seeking for a solution. A way out. Had I been more observant, had I been a better brother to you, maybe I would have suspected what was on your mind and been able to stop you."

Elladan bowed his head, his long hair hiding his face from view.

"Oh, Dan." Aragorn leaned forwards, for a moment forgetting his constant scratching. Placing a hand on Elladan's shoulder, Aragorn said gently, "The only one to blame is I. No one else. It was my decision, my hand that mixed the Moruthond, my hand that put the cup at my lips to drink. Had I wanted you to see what I was up to, you would have seen it. And as I said to Legolas, had you stopped me that night, I would have found another way. At another time. I was determined to do that. I would have found a way."

Lifting his head, Elladan gazed into Aragorn's eyes, and when he only saw the truth there, he nodded slowly. "Still…"

"No, Dan. You and Ro are the best brothers I could have wished for. There was nothing you could have done differently." Turning to Legolas, Aragorn added, "And you are the best friend I could have wished for."

Both elves smiled a sincere smile, maybe the first since the day they had played out in the snow.

"I am glad that you are still with us, brother," Elladan said, giving Aragorn a pat on his leg.

Before Aragorn could answer, the door to his room opened and Elrond and Elrohir entered, the latter carrying bandages and some glass jars, which he placed on the nightstand next to Aragorn's bed.

Elladan and Legolas got up from the bed to make space for Elrond, taking up position in front of the balcony doors. Legolas, leaning back at the doors and crossing his arms across his chest, watched with growing unease how Aragorn seemed to draw away from his father, physically and emotionally.

The smile that had been in his eyes vanished, to be replaced by a shadow of doubt and uncertainty. Legolas could only too vividly remember the last words that had been spoken between Elrond and Aragorn, and he hoped that these few words had not damaged the bond that father and son shared. After all, injuries caused by weapons heal, but injuries caused by words could fester forever.

Elrond sat down on the bed, smiling gently. "How do you feel, my son?"

"Better," Aragorn answered, for once not scratching his chest.

Nodding, Elrond licked his lips before he spoke next, and his voice was gentle and deep, "I know there are many things we have to talk about, Estel."

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but Elrond lifted his hand in a shushing motion. "We will not talk about that right now. But I want you to know that I love you, my son. And nothing will ever change that. Nothing."

For a moment, Aragorn said nothing, but then he sighed deeply and bowed his head. "Ada…"

"No, Estel. You have to say nothing to that, just believe my words." Elrond patted Aragorn's leg just as Elladan had done only a few moments earlier, before he took a deep breath and returned to the problem at hand.

"Elrohir told me that your bandages bother you. Do you mind me taking a look?"

Aragorn shook his head and began to shrug out of his shirt. With a bit of help from Elrond due to his still hurting shoulder and ribs, Aragorn put off the shirt and sat up straighter, giving his father room to work.

With skilled fingers and years of practise, Elrond eyed the bandages critically, running his hands over them and controlling the edges closely. "They are a bit frayed here and there and a bit worse for wear, but other than that I can see no mistake with the bandages, Estel."

"But they itch horribly," Aragorn said and promptly began to scratch his side.

"Mmmm, where does it itch exactly?"

"Mostly my chest and sides, but my back a bit, too," Aragorn said, shifting his position slightly so that he was able to scratch the small of his back.

After another inspection of the bandages, Elrond shook his head. "I think it will be best if we change them, then, although it should not be necessary yet."

A relieved sigh left Aragorn's lips when his father began to slowly and carefully unwind the bandages. Layer for layer fell away, and when the last layer of bandages was removed and Aragorn's still slightly bruised chest was exposed, Elrond sucked in his breath sharply, garnering the attention of the twins and Legolas.

"Ada?" Elladan asked, frowning.

But Elrond did not answer. Instead, he leaned close to Aragorn and ran his hand over his chest, which elicited a hiss from Aragorn.

"Lord Elrond?" Legolas pushed himself off the balcony door and moved up to the bed, closely followed by the twins. When the three got their first look of Aragorn's chest, they grimaced in sympathy.

"Ada, what is _that_?" Elrohir's voice sounded hesitant.

"It looks like a rash, Elrohir," Elrond said, his gaze still fixed on Aragorn's chest. "But I have never seen a rash like this one."

Peeking over Elrond's shoulder, Legolas tilted his head to the side and eyed the rash. "A rash?"

"Aye." Elrond nodded his head, in full healer mode now. "A rash is a change in the skin of a person. It can affect the skin's texture and appearance, can be localized to only one part of the body or affect the whole body. A rash can be caused by many things, such as plants, insect bites, too dry skin, coldness, heat or contact with things."

Elrond stopped in his lesson to inspect a part of Aragorn's chest more closely, giving Elrohir the chance to intervene. "We all know what a rash is like, Ada. I think Legolas's words were more statement than question."

Frowning, Aragorn bowed his head and examined his chest more closely. He could clearly see the bruises that had been caused by his mistreatment, some scrapes and scratches. But over these, his skin was not only red, but dotted with small red bumps. The longer he looked, the more bumps he saw, circling his chest like a huge belt. Where he had scratched, the small red bumps had turned into bigger blisters; his skin was swollen and hot to the touch.

Experimentally, Aragorn touched on of the smaller red dots, scratching it lightly, in only a few moments, the small bump grew to the size of a smaller coin and the skin began to darken. Swallowing, Aragorn watched in silence how his father touched this bump and that, leaving a clearly visible road of red blisters on his way.

"Uhm, Ada, could you please not touch them, yes?" he asked, while trying to hold his hands away from his chest.

"Oh, of course." Elrond nodded, already inspecting another part of Aragorn's chest.

Grimacing, Aragorn tried to still his hands, but the longer his father examined his chest, touching here and there, the more it itched and after a few minutes his whole torso began to pain him.

"Ada, please." Aragorn bade, and finally his father leaned back and let go of his by now overall red chest.

"I have never seen anything like this before," Elrond said, shaking his head. "It looks like the poison ivy rash and at the same time not so. I doubt it was caused by the bandages."

"But what caused it then?" Legolas asked before he reached out and grabbed Aragorn's wrist gently, but firmly, when he tried to scratch his chest.

"Maybe the salve I used on the bruises, or something in the tea I gave him," Elrond said, tapping his right index finger against his chin in his usual gesture of hard thinking.

Elladan gave Aragorn a pointed look when he tried to sneak a hand to his side to scratch it, before he answered his father, "Nay, Ada. We have used that salve numerous times, and the tea had no unusual ingredients."

"But what then?" Elrohir asked, before his eyes suddenly widened in disbelieve. "The poison."

"What?" Elladan asked confused, but a moment later his eyes grew big, too. "Aye, it is time, is it not? Four days, that was yesterday. It must have started over night without us noticing."

Elrond gave his sons and Legolas a strange look, before he once more inspected the rash on Aragorn's chest and now, the back too. It was some minutes later that he spoke again. "I think you are right, it must be the poison."

Looking down at his chest and suppressing the urge to rub his back at the head board of his bed like a bear used to do to scratch his back on a tree, Aragorn questioned in a somewhat subdued tone, "What makes you so sure?"

"Well, several things," Elrond said, gesturing at Aragorn's chest. "See here?" Elrond indicated the area around Aragorn's belly button. "The skin shows small red spots, no blisters, no swelling. And here," he gestured at the right side of Aragorn's chest, "liquid filled blisters that grow even now."

Ignoring the grimace of disgust on Aragorn's face, Elrond continued and pointed to Aragorn's left collar bone. "And here we have a classical dry rash, with cracked skin in a hand sized area. Over here, " Elrond pointed at Aragorn's left side and back, "we have what looks to be a mixture of a normal rash as can be caused by many plants, and a typical wet-skin bump rash."

Leaning back, Elrond gave Aragorn's chest another look. "I have never seen such a great variety of rashes on only a single patient. And seeing that Estel was exposed to neither plants nor insects, I assume that the rash was caused by the poison. After all, it was bound to strike again."

Elrond narrowed his eyes and continued to examine the rash, letting his eyes roam across Aragorn's exposed chest. In a low tone, so as if he was talking only to himself he began to speak,

"A rash of this kind, very uncommon. But aye, a rash can cause the skin to change color, or to itch, become warm, bumpy, dry, cracked or blistered, swell and be painful. (1) Treatmeant varies….very interesting indeed."

Clearing his throat, Aragorn commented dryly, "I am really glad to be able to entertain you, Ada, but I am no study object of yours."

Snapping his head up, a look of guilt flashed across Elrond's face. "I did not mean to…"

"It hurts, Ada," Aragorn said, and from the look on the faces of the elves in the room, none of them was sure whether Aragorn had only referred to the itch, or rather something more.

Shifting in his bed in an attempt to help the itch without actually scratching, Aragorn asked the question that was on all their minds, "And now? What can we do?"

"I can treat the rash with salves and compresses, but I do not know whether that will help. Maybe Mithrandir knows more," Elrond said, already getting to his feet.

"Elladan, would you please go and find him for me?" Elrond asked on his way to the door. "Elrohir, please go to the kitchens and bring me some cooled milk, some cucumbers if you can find them in the greenhouses, too."

The twins nodded, gave Aragorn a reassuring look and left the room quickly to do as they had been asked. In the doorway, Elrond turned around once more. "Estel, no scratching until I am back. Legolas, I trust you make sure that he follows that order?"

"Aye, Lord Elrond." Legolas bowed his head slightly, and with a satisfied nod Elrond left the room, closing the door behind him.

The moment the door was closed, Aragorn lifted his hand to scratch his horribly itching side, but Legolas caught it before he could reach his skin.

"Your father told you not to do that."

"But it itches, Legolas. Terribly so," Aragorn said, trying to wriggle his hand out of Legolas's grasp.

"Now, I can imagine it does, but you must not aggravate the rash, Estel," Legolas said sympathetically, while eying Aragorn's other hand closely, ready to grab it, too, in case Aragorn tried to scratch himself.

Sighing, Aragorn shifted uncomfortably. "Have you ever had a rash, Legolas?"

"No," Legolas said firmly, but the answer came too quick for Aragorn to not get suspicious. Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn dug deeper.

"Really, not once? I know elves have no skin irritations like some humans do, but you can get rashes. Glorfindel had one once, after being bitten by a bug."

"Glorfindel?" Legolas said with a raised eyebrow and an air of curiosity, but Aragorn was not fooled or diverted.

"Uh yes, Glorfindel was bitten by a bug and got a rash on his arm. Have you ever gotten a rash, Legolas?" Aragorn asked again, inching his hand closer to his side to scratch.

Legolas sighed deeply, leaned over, took Aragorn's hand and pressed it to the bed. "If I tell you, will you stop trying to hurt yourself?"

"Yes." Nodding, Aragorn removed his hands out of Legolas's grip and sat on them. Then, he waited expectantly for Legolas to begin.

Tucking a strand of blond hair behind his ear, Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed. For a moment he played with the covers, but when Aragorn began to shift uncomfortably, he sighed once more.

"I had a rash once. Only once, mind you." Legolas paused for a moment, as if he was gauging where best to begin his tale. "I think I was…a few years past my majority. Yes. I was on a patrol that lasted a few months. We patrolled the southern reaches of the Kingdom, for there had been increased orc activity and strange happenings around the edges of my home. Spiders, wargs, strangers. The patrol was long, arduous and exhausting. When we finally returned to the palace, we were all in need of a bath."

Pausing, Legolas moved a hand through his hair as if he was remembering a very unpleasant experience, causing Aragorn to tilt his head to the side and ask expectantly, "And?"

"I went to my room and I took a bath and then I…well I got that _slight_ rash," Legolas said, avoiding eye contact with Aragorn.

"Where? Caused by what?"

Legolas shifted and began to play with the coverlet. "It must have been something in my hair cleanser. I got the rash on my head."

"Your head?" Aragorn asked with a glint of humour in his voice. "Was it bad?"

"Uhm….yes," Legolas admitted, still avoiding all eye contact. "The skin on my head itched terribly and my Ada…he had to cut most of my hair."

"Oh." Suddenly losing all levity, Aragorn's voice turned soft. "I am sorry, Legolas. I know what the hair means to the elves." And it was true. For an elf to have to cut his hair short was a most horrible thing indeed.

Suddenly, a soft snort came from Legolas, followed closely by a chuckle. Confused, Aragorn shook his head. "Legolas?"

A clear, tinkling laugh filled the room and Legolas looked at Aragorn with a broad smile on his face. For a moment, Aragorn said nothing, just stared at his friend, but then his face darkened and he pouted. "You cheated."

Still grinning, Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "It worked, did it not? You did not scratch that rash of yours, and when my ears are not deceiving me, your father and brothers are here."

A moment later the door to Aragorn's room opened and Elrond entered, followed closely by the twins. Elrohir carried a pitcher with milk in the one hand and a pitcher of steaming water in the other, while Elladan carried some blankets. Elrond himself carried a tray filled with bottles and some wicked looking instruments that caused Legolas to flinch in sympathy.

"Where is Mithrandir? Did you not find him?" Legolas asked after Elladan had closed the door behind him.

"Aye and nay," Elladan answered. He placed the blankets on an empty chair, then took one of the pitchers out of Elrohir's hand and placed it on the nightstand. "I found Mithrandir in the library, but he was unwilling to come out and had locked the door. He said he was busy and that whatever it was, Ada would be able to deal with it. He made it quite clear to not be disturbed unless absolutely necessary."

He shrugged, and Elrohir added, "Wizards."

"Well then," Elrond said, already busy mixing what looked like dried flowers into a cup that he had filled with the hot water Elrohir had brought. He stirred it a few times, before he gave the cup to Aragorn.

"Here, drink this. It is a relaxing tea that will also help with the itch."

Aragorn took the cup, sniffed at it and then blew on the still steaming tea to cool it down a bit before drinking it in small sips. Meanwhile, the twins prepared the things they would need to tend to Aragorn's itch, while Legolas stoked the fire. There was not really much that Legolas could do, seeing that he was no healer, but he did his best not to be in the way.

When Aragorn had finished the tea, and Elrond, and the twins had finished preparing the things they would need, a hesitant silence spread through the room. It almost seemed as if they were all waiting for the command to begin, but it was not given to them. Finally, after some moments of silence, Aragorn sighed softly.

"It still itches."

"The tea will need time to work, Estel," Elrond said, reaching for some cloth and the jug of cold milk. "Lie down on your back, spread your arms to the side and try not think of the rash. Elladan, will you please remove the blankets and sheets?"

Elladan did as he was bidden, then stood back with his twin and Legolas to watch Aragorn lay down as he had been told. Elrond sat down on the edge of the bed, and with a "This is going to be a bit cold, Estel," he began to pad Aragorn's chest and sides with the milk soaked cloth.

The longer Elrond padded Aragorn's chest, the more angry red spots appeared. They covered the whole of Aragorn's chest and sides, vanished under the cloth of his trousers and slowly spread up his neck, too.

Shivering slightly, Aragorn shifted on the bed. His chest was on fire and his ears felt as if they were being pressed against hot stones or something like that, and he had the urge to lift his hands and make sure that his hair and face were not really burning. The strange thing was, he was feeling frozen and cold on the rest of his body. Already his fingers tingled slightly, and he could not suppress another shiver that raced through his body.

Aragorn had not even noticed that he had closed his eyes until Elrond asked with a hint of worry in his tone, "Estel? Are you still awake?"

Blinking his eyes open, Aragorn nodded. When had he gotten so tired? But he got the answer to that question almost immediately. Elrond put the milk and cloths on the bed and reached out to place an icy hand on Aragorn's forehead.

"You have a slight fever, probably caused by the rash. I do not think that we have to worry about that. But to make sure I will give you some fever reducing tea. And you are tired because of the relaxing tea, do not worry about that either. Just rest."

Aragorn nodded once more, then closed his eyes again. His eyelids felt like lead and he was so incredibly tired all of a sudden. Although his head felt hot and his chest was on fire, the terrible itch had lessened already.

A few minutes later, Aragorn had fallen asleep under the gentle and caring hands of his father, who worked for two more hours to clean and dry the skin, open the water filled blisters, cream the skin with salves and watch over the slight fever.

--oOo--

To say that the rangers were unhappy about the fact that Aragorn had fallen victim to a new stage of the poison was as if someone would say that dwarves were only _fond_ of ale. It was the understatement of the century. But, Elrond and the twins could convince them that everything was under control, that this phase was not live threatening and that Aragorn would keep no permanent harm from this new ailment.

Halbarad, needing more assurances, had spoken briefly with a still very tired Aragorn, but when he had heard the same reassurances that the elves had given him, he was ready to believe it all. Indeed, he had even agreed to take the rangers on a hunting trip through the valley for the day, and the twins had spontaneously agreed to accompany them. A day out in the snow and fresh air was just what they needed to clear their minds and refresh their senses. The fact that their brother was in good hands and would more likely than not sleep the whole day had made their decision a bit easier, too.

It was early evening and the light in the valley had already begun to dim. A lonely star had appeared in the sky to guide weary travellers home, and the valley glimmered golden from the light of torches and candles.

Once again, Elrond had come to clean the rash on Aragorn's chest and back. The fire in the room was burning high to provide enough warmth, for the rash needed to dry out and Aragorn could wear no clothing for as long as the rash was still that angry.

"Turn over, Estel, so that I can treat your back." Elrond's deep voice filled the room, and the rather sleepy Aragorn rolled over onto his stomach, sucking in his breath when the rash connected with the blanket that had been spread over the bed.

"I think the rash has already gotten better," Elrond said, while he dabbed at some red blisters. "I wonder why the rash is not worse. I mean, in comparison to the other stages of the poison, this seems almost harmless."

"Maybe to you," Aragorn said, his voice slightly muffled by the cushion. "But I can assure you, it hurts enough."

There was a short pause, then, "I did not mean to sound heartless, Estel. What I wanted to say was that it is rather wondersome why the poison would not be more lethal at this point of the poisoning."

"Maybe it has grown tired," Aragorn muttered. The constant treatment with the fever reducing tea, the itch-preventing-tea, the-you-will-feel-better-tea and the I-have-no-clue-what-this-tea-is-for-tea had made him not only incredibly tired, but also irritated. And the fact that he had spend so much time with his father, alone, did not made the situation any better, as he was still feeling guitly for what he had done.

There was still a tension between them, and the words that needed to be said, that wanted to be spoken, would not come easily. For a few more minutes Elrond cleaned the rash, then he began to gently spread some salve over the worst of the rash; the rest would heal best with lots of fresh air and rest.

While massaging the salve into the skin right under Aragorn's shoulder blade, Elrond suddenly frowned and ceased his motions. Leaning closer, he examined the skin more closely. There was a faint scar on the skin, from a wound that had been caused a few years ago at least. But it had been deep, that much Elrond could still tell. Caressing the scar slightly with his fingertips, he asked curiously, "How did you get that scar, Estel?"

"What scar?"

"This one, right under your shoulder blade," Elrond said, pressing down on the scar to show Aragorn which scar he meant.

Thinking for a moment, Aragorn tried to remember which particular scar his father meant and how he had gotten it. Then, he shrugged, "I fell from a cliff. Or rather, thrown down by a herd of mountain geese, in a way. It is a long story."

"We have time," Elrond said, and before he could stop himself, he added, "Lest you try to kill yourself again."

It was as if all the muscles in Aragorn's back tensed at the same moment. Where he had been relaxed and asleep only a moment before, he was now wide awake. The time had come to face what he had done, but whether he was ready or not, he knew not.

Elrond watched his son's reaction with mixed feelings. He knew that Aragorn was still very ill and physically not yet ready to have this conversation, but he wanted to have some answers, and the possibility to put things right between them.

"Why did you do that, Estel?" Elrond asked, and there was no anger in his voice, no reprimand, only the emotions of a father who had almost lost his son.

Some moments trickled by before Aragorn finally answered.

"I think I was scared."

"Scared? Of what? Death?"

"No." Aragorn shook his head, but he did not look at his father. "Dying. Death is not the end, it is only the beginning, for all men will go the Halls of Waiting to be reunited with their kin. And family."

"As do the elves," Elrond said, but he said nothing more and waited for Aragorn to speak.

"I think I…I think I was scared of deteriorating. Losing myself. Become someone who I was not. The poison, it…it made me change so much." Aragorn's voice was soft, but Elrond had no problems understanding his words.

"I did not want you to see me that way. The thought that your last memories of me would be ones of suffering, of pain and weakness…it was too much. I could not bear that thought. To end my life by my own free will seemed to me to be the right choice. I could see no other way out, no light on the dark road. There was no point in going on."

There was a silence in the room, with only the crackling of the fire to break it, but then Aragorn spoke again, and his voice had turned almost wistful.

"Life is so full of hardship. So full of pain. _Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace(2)._"

Suppressing the tears that threatened to spill at Aragorn's words, Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's back. "Is there not life, too? And good times? Laughter and joy? Family and friends? There is always light at the end of the dark road, my son. I have not many memories of my father, Estel, but one thing I remember as if he told me only yesterday. He always said, 'Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens'. And I think he was right."

"That is a wise saying, Ada," Aragorn said, then added, "I wish you had told me that earlier."

Elrond smiled gently. "I tell you now. From father to son. Maybe one day you will tell your children the same thing."

"Aye, maybe, Ada. Maybe."

Tbc…

(1) A quote I took from the web but cannot find the source anymore.

(2)Oscar Wilde

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**So, a new chapter ready to be commented on. Do you like it? Let me hear what you think, please. As you know, I live on reviews. –g– Oh, and in case I am not able to post before Christmas due to work overload in my job (I have been told December is a horror-month), "Happy Holidays!"**


	47. 46 Aragorn's Decision

**Here you go! No long speeches, no useless words this time. Enjoy!**

**Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translation:_Iston, mellon nin: I know, my friend

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--oOo--

„_But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times_

_if one only remembers to turn on the light."_

_(Albus Dumbledore – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban)_

--oOo--

* * *

Chapter 46: Aragorn's decision

"I am frozen through and through," Halbarad complained when he dismounted stiffly from his horse and handed the leather reins to a stable hand. The rangers and the twins had hunted the whole day, and so much so had they enjoyed the hunt that they returned only after the sun had set for the day.

"Then come, a warm bath, some good wine and a hot meal await us." Elrohir grinned, patting Halbarad on the shoulder.

Nodding, Halbarad followed the twins and the other rangers into the house, while a few elves took their game from the horses and cared for the animals. Lights had been lit throughout the house, and the rich smell of roasted chicken and cooked vegetables filled the halls.

"Ah, home sweet home." Elladan inhaled deeply, looking around his home as if the source of the smells were waiting just behind the doors. "I am hungry. I could eat a troll."

Snorting in a very unelf like manner, Elrohir shook his head. "You can always eat, Dan. The bad thing is that you really eat like a troll."

"Why, you…." Spinning on his heels, Elladan was already thinking about an appropriate thing to say, much to the amusement of the rangers, when a strange sound reached his ears. Almost like…someone knocking and shouting.

"Dan?" Elrohir asked, seeing the confused look on his brother's face.

"Shush, Ro. Wait." Tilting his head and lifting a hand to stop his brother from saying anything, Elladan stood stock still, listening to the faint sound he had heard earlier. A few moments later, he picked it up again.

"Ro, can you hear that? Where is it coming from?"

While the rangers exchanged baffled looks, Elrohir did as his brother had and tilted his head to the side to listen. Indeed, there was a faint sound coming from upstairs. As if someone was actually….shouting?

Locking eyes with Elladan, Elrohir turned on his heel and strode down the hallway and then up the steps, taking two stairs at a time. Elladan followed on his tracks, and after a moment of hesitation, the rangers followed them. If something was happening to their Chieftain and friend, then they needed to know.

Up the stairs they went, then down the corridor. Right, left and down another hallway, passing the chambers of the twins, Elrond, the guest chambers that Legolas used so frequently, and then even Aragorn's room.

The closer they got, the louder the noises became, and when the group rounded another corner and entered a candlelit hallway, even the rangers were able to hear the commotion. A few moments later, they could make out the voice and the words.

"Mithrandir! Open that door!" Legolas voice called, sounding frustrated and vexed.

Although the rangers could not hear the reply, the twins did; they could not suppress the grin that spread across their faces.

"Impudent elfling. Leave me alone."

"But you have been in there for hours. Lord Elrond asked me to get you down for dinner, and I am not to leave here without you."

The group of elves and rangers rounded the last corner, and what they saw made the twins grin openly, and the rangers smirk into their beards.

Right in the middle of the hallway, in front of the carved, wooden double doors that led to the library, stood Legolas. His hair was neatly braided, his clothing fresh, and he looked clean and rested. Well, had it not been for the tips of his ears that showed a cranberry red colour, the flush on his cheeks, and the fact that he had his hands balled to fists at his sides.

He had obviously not heard the arrival of the group, for the jumped up and down two times like a small child, yelling, "Comeout, Mithrandir! I will not leave without you. What do you think Lord Elrond will say to this?"

Elladan cleared his throat and in his best Elrond imitation commented, "What is all this nonsense about?"

Startled, Legolas turned around, his eyes wide like saucers. When he saw the smug look on the faces of the twins, his ears turned even redder.

"Uh, nothing," he mumbled, before he turned back to the library doors, clearly feeling ashamed.

Laughing, Elrohir stepped up to Legolas and put an arm around his shoulders. "My friend, if I would not know better, I would say you hopped around here like an elfling."

"I did not. Only maidens hop around," Legolas spat out, but by now his ears were so red that he resembled a beet root more than an elf.

"Ah, excuse our jokes, Legolas," Elladan said, leaning casually against the wall. "But it had been long since we saw you that frustrated. What happened?"

Legolas snorted and gestured at the doors to the library, "That….that wizard has happened. Your father asked me to fetch him for dinner and not leave here without him. Mithrandir refuses to come out."

"He is still in there?" Elrohir asked disbelievingly, remembering that Mithrandir had been in the library since the early morning, or perhaps even the whole night.

"Well, then why don't you go in?" Halbarad asked while eyeing the muddy traces his boots had made on the floor. The staff would not be particularly happy about them. As it seemed, nothing of a serious matter had happened while they had been gone, and he truly felt rather wet and still cold at the moment. The image of the warm bath and the hot meal drifted on the forefront of his mind.

"Mithrandir has locked the doors. I cannot get in," Legolas said, turning the doorknob to show them his point. The lock rattled a bit, but the doors would not open.

Sighing, Halbarad shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that is truly fascinating. But, being what it may, I think I will rather take that warm bath than stand here and watch a locked door. If you will excuse me?"

He gave the elves a lopsided grin, bowed briefly, then turned and left in the direction he had come from. The rest of the rangers followed him, leaving a new set of muddy footprints on the floor.

Legolas watched them leave before he sighed deeply. "Your father really wants to talk to Mithrandir and told me not to accept his excuses any longer." When the twins gave him curious looks, Legolas added, "We have been trying to get him out of the library for most of the day. Your father wanted him to take a look at Estel."

Worry entered the twins' eyes and Elrohir asked immediately, "Has his condition worsened? Is he alright?"

Lifting his hands in a placating gesture, Legolas quickly reassured them, "He is fine, or at least, as fine as one can be with an angry rash covering most of the body. Your father is with him right now for another treatment. He thinks this stage of the poison a bit…strange, and wanted Mithrandir's opinion on the matter."

"Strange?" Elladan asked, lifting an eyebrow. In his opinion, this whole poison was strange.

"His words, not mine." Legolas turned back to the door. "I suppose you have no idea how to get in there, do you? I wonder what he is doing, anyway."

Behind Legolas's back, the twins exchanged a long look. For a few moments none of them spoke, but then Elrohir shrugged in a "Why not?" kind of way.

Focusing on Legolas, who had not even noticed the silent conversation taking place behind his back, Elladan pushed himself away from the wall. "When the wizard is not coming to the Prince, then maybe the Prince has to go to the wizard."

Confused, Legolas narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Legolas, my friend," Elladan said, placing his arm around Legolas's shoulder, "we will now show you something that we have not even showed Estel. It is time you learn the true source of our success in hiding from Ada."

Giving the twins a curious look, Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And what may that be, I wonder?"

Grinning evilly, Elladan winked at Legolas, before he began to steer him down the hallway, with Elrohir beside them. Legolas did not know whether to be amused, or fear for his life. Aye, he knew that he needed some help to get Mithrandir out of the library, but on the other hand, no one voluntarily meddled with the business of a wizard. And the gleam that had entered the twins' eyes bode nothing good.

But, before Legolas had come to a decision between fleeing and begging the twins to stop whatever they were planning, Elladan stopped in his tracks in front of a set of stairs that led to a higher level of the house. The wooden steps were polished and clean, the walls decorated with intricately woven tapestries. Bees wax candles lit the walls.

Elladan gave his brother a quick grin before he stepped up to one of the tapestries. It showed a deer hunt, with elvish riders on magnificent steeds, with long bows and sparkling swords. The tapestry was woven with golden threads, and here and there Legolas thought to see mithril threads as well. The tapestry was a piece of art.

When neither Elladan nor Elrohir said anything, but still stood there grinning, Legolas began to feel slightly uneasy. "Uhm and now?" he asked, unsure why the twins had brought him here.

Elladan gave his brother a wink, then reached out and took hold of the tapestry. "Legolas, what we are going to show you now is part of our secret. You must swear never to show this to anyone. Not even to Estel."

"Why not to Estel? He is your brother."

"Because if he knew this, we could not win in hide and seek any longer," Elrohir said, grinning.

"He is grown up, Ro. You no longer play hide and seek with him." Legolas pointed out while shaking his head.

"Says who?" Elladan commented, grinning. "I definitely remember hiding here last year when I put that honey in Estel's boots."

Pointing at his brother and grinning from ear to ear, Elrohir chimed in, "Oh yes, and when you braided his horse's mane shortly before he had to leave for the rangers. Oh, and when you called him a sissy for wearing long underwear in the winter, or when you hid his sword, or when you…"

"Alright, alright Ro." Elladan lifted his hands and stopped his brother's excited talk. "I think we got your point." His voice was not at all happy and excited. Instead, his voice sounded slightly hoarse.

It took Elrohir only a second to catch up on his brothers mood swing. All those jokes they had played on Aragorn…what if they had never again the chance to play pranks on him? What if their father's plan of blood letting would not work?

Clearing his throat, Elrohir shrugged his shoulders. "Let us not let Legolas wait any longer, brother. Show him."

"He has to swear first!" Elladan said, trying to return to their happyatmosphere, then looked expectantly at Legolas, who was by now so confused that he simply shook his head.

"Alright, I swear to never tell a soul about this."

"Good," Elladan said, then pulled back the tapestry to reveal…a plain wooden door. Right there, in the wall under the stairs.

Looking from one twin to the other, Legolas gestured at the door. "And how is a storage room able to help me get Mithrandir out of the library? Are you perhaps storing dragons in there? Or Hobbits with fresh pipe weed?"

Tsking, Elrohir locked eyes with his brother. "He thinks this is a storage room."

"Ah, poor elf, really," Elladan answered, before he opened the door. To Legolas's surprise, there was no storage room behind the door, but a narrow passageway. A secret passageway, to be exact, for the floor was dusted and spider webs clung in the corners.

Cautiously, Legolas entered, letting his hands trail over the walls. "Does your father know of this? Or Glorfindel?"

Following Legolas and closing the door behind them, Elrohir answered casually, "Of course. Ada built this house, after all. This passage was used to fill the cellars before the storage house was built. Since then, this corridor is out of use. Dan and I found it one day when fleeing from our lessons as elflings. We have used it ever since, and not once has someone found us here."

"Impressive. I only wonder how this passageway could have stayed secret to little Estel," Legolas said, walking down the hallway. Although they had brought no candles with them, it was not completely dark and the elves had no problem seeing in the semi dark. Light seemed to seep into the corridor from the hallways and rooms next to it.

"When he was five we told him that this tapestry is worth more than he could ever imagine, seeing that it was made by our mother. He never touched it," Elladan said, shrugging.

"Mhm," was all Legolas said to that, while they followed the corridor. It turned right, and there was a hole in the wall to the right. It looked as if the wood that made the wall had been removed forcefully.

"We are there." Elrohir knelt down in front of the hole, and before Legolas could question him, the younger twin had vanished in the dark hole. A moment later, Elladan followed. Legolas stood there, watching the twins crawl through the hole, as if they were elflings playing a game. A moment later, Elladan's voice reached his ears. "Are you coming or not?"

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Legolas slowly got down on hands and knees and followed the twins. If his father ever heard of this…

A few yards into the tunnel, Legolas met the twins, who had stopped in the middle of it. Elladan gestured at the wall in front of him. "Look, Legolas."

Legolas was not sure what Elladan was referring to. He saw nothing but a dusty wooden wall with some small spider webs. But, he did as he had been told. Leaning closer, he suddenly saw that there was a hole in the wood, almost like a peep hole.

Frowning, Legolas leaned even closer and pressed his face against the wood, peering through the hole. What he saw made him gasp. There in front of him was the library. He saw the numerous book shelves, the old tomes, the flickering candles and the stuffed armchairs that stood in the corners of the room. When he leaned a bit to the right, he could even see Gandalf, bent over a small, leather bound book.

"This is amazing." Legolas breathed. "A secret spy hole."

"Dan and I used it to keep an eye on Ada when we played pranks, or when he worked in the library for days on end," Elrohir said softly, as if he was afraid that Gandalf could hear them. Which he probably could, so close where they to him.

Looking at the twins, Legolas asked eagerly, "How can we get in?"

Elladan grinned evilly. "Follow me, my friend, and learn from the best."

In principle, it was so incredibly easy. The twins led Legolas a bit further down the passageway until they reached a part where the wooden planks let in so much light that the corridor was almost as lit as the library. Elrohir pushed against the planks, and some of them slid soundlessly to the side. The way into the library was open!

--oOo--

"You could have asked me politely to come to dinner, Legolas," Gandalf grumbled as he trotted behind Legolas down the hallway towards the private dining room of the family.

"I tried, Mithrandir," Legolas merely said while he tried to rush the wizard down the corridor and brush some dust from his tunic at the same time. Together with the twins he had managed to get the wizard out of the library, although Gandalf had not been amused. He still carried the small book in which he had read when the three young elves had surprised him.

Huffing, Gandalf straightened his back a bit. "Has your father never told you not to mess with a wizards business?"

Sighing, Legolas released Gandalf's sleeve. "He has. But he is not here right now, and Lord Elrond is. I rather face my father's disapproval for my behaviour later, than Lord Elrond's look right now."

Grinning into his beard, Gandalf said nothing more until they reached the dining room. Candles had been set out on the shelves and tables, a fire burned brightly in the hearth, and thick carpets lay on the floor.

Some straw, mixed with dried herbs for the scent, lay on some smaller tables, and the atmosphere was calm and serene. The dinner table itself was already laden with bowls of steaming food, decanters of wine and ale for the rangers, as well as plates of fresh bread and roasted chicken.

Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor, as well as the rangers sat around the table, talking quietly. Gandalf took his seat next to Elrond, while Legolas breathed a sigh of relief and sat down next to Halbarad. The rangers were talking about the hunt, and seeing that Legolas had not taken part in it, he listened with interest. A few moments later the twins joined them, and they begun the meal. Aragorn would not join them, due to the rash, the slight fever, and the fact that he claimed to have no hunger at all. According to Elrond, Aragorn was already asleep again.

The food was rich and good, the talk amiable and light. They were halfway through the desert, apple pudding with a sprinkle of cinnamon, when Halbarad nodded into the direction of the small book that Gandalf had placed next to his plate; much to Elrond's disapproval.

"This here?" Gandalf asked in a light tone of voice, holding the book into the air for all to see. "Oh, just a book I found in Elrond's excellent library. It is fascinating."

Grinning and swallowing a spoon full of pudding, Elrohir winked at Gandalf. "Is it one of Ada's special books? The ones he hides behind the boring volumes about history and such?"

"Elrohir!" Elrond said sternly, his face a mask of control. But there was also a bit of treacherouscolour on his cheeks.

Wiping a napkin across his long beard, Gandalf laughed loudly. "No, no, my good Elrohir, it is none of those books."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Elrond said, taking deep breaths, much to the amusement of the others.

"I know, Ada. I was only teasing you." Elrohir patted his father's arm in a placating gesture. If looks could have killed, Elrohir would have turned into ashes that very moment. Turning back to Gandalf, Elrohir inquired, "So, what is this book about that is has captured your attention for the whole day?"

"Well…" Gandalf said slowly, turning the small black book in his hands. "It is a book about herbs and plants. Sicknesses and cures, poisons and remedies."

It was as if someone had taken all the noise from the room, leaving mutes behind. No one said anything, all sound ceased. Every single ranger and elf was staring at Gandalf; forks were lifted halfway to mouths, glasses were raised to drink, spoons were dripping pudding on the table. An ant could have been heard walking across the floor.

Finally, Elrond found his voice. "We have searched all the books this house holds, and more. There is nothing in them of importance, nothing about the poison used."

"That is true, Elrond, only too true. But, what if we looked for the wrong thing?"

Frowning, Elrond shook his head. "I do not understand."

Still holding the small book into the air, Gandalf lifted a bushy eyebrow. "We were searching for an antidote to the poison used on Aragorn. Something to counteract the poison. But, what if we should have been searching for another poison instead?"

Silence. No one in the room dared to even move. All eyes rested on Gandalf, and after a few moments Elrond released a shuddering breath. "A poison to fight the poison that is already in his body?"

"Aye."

"It could kill him, Mithrandir," Elrond said, a bit breathless.

A small smile crossed Mithrandir's face and his eyes gleamed. "But it has not."

--oOo--

Aragorn tried valiantly to suppress the urge to scratch his chest while he listened to Gandalf's words. Could it really be true? They had found not only one, but two possible cures for the poison that was attacking him with such a vengeance?

Only two days ago, he had been to the point that he had been willing to give up his life. He had seen no way out, no light, no life in the future. And now? Now, there was really a chance to live? Another way to get out of this horrible nightmare?

It was all a bit too much for Aragorn, and with a frustrated shake of his head, he lifted his hand to stop Gandalf in his explanations.

"So, you are telling me that you have found a cure?"

Gandalf sighed into his beard; he had told his story not only once already, but three times. Two times at the dinner table, and now again, but it seemed that no one was willing to believe him that he had indeed found a way to save Aragorn.

"Aye, Estel, I have found a possible cure. But," Gandalf lifted a gnarled finger warningly, "I give no guarantees that it will work."

"But it could, couldn't it?" Legolas threw in eagerly, eyes as bright as the moonlight that shone through the window and bathed Aragorn's bedroom in a silver light.

"Aye, it could."

Pacing from one side of the room to the other, his arms crossed across his chest and his chin in his hand, Elrond shook his head slightly. "How can we be sure? If we give it to him, it could weaken him, kill him even."

Gandalf shrugged his shoulders. "You already gave it to him, and he still lives."

"Yes, but I gave it to him to counteract the Moruthond," Elrond said, and when he reached the window, he turned and paced the same way back. "If we give it to him now, it could be lethal."

Huffing, Gandalf interjected, "It could, yes, but I think we have proof enough that foxglove can work in our favour here. Not the Tulcoindo in itself, but only the ingredient foxglove."

"Mithrandir, where do you think shall we get foxglove in winter? We are standing before the same problem as with the lilies."

"Not exactly, my old friend." Moving closer to the fire, where the twins shared a comfortable armchair, Gandalf warmed his hands over the embers of the slowly dying fire. "Can you not separate the foxglove from the Tulcoindo, Elrond?"

Elrond frowned. "Possibly, yes, but it would take some time, and it would be diluted and weak. Mixed with other herbs, watered…"

"But it would be possible?" Gandalf asked, his eyes resting on the pacing Elrond.

After a moment of contemplation, Elrond nodded. "Aye, it is possible. We could give it to him in small doses only. As a test, so to say, to see how his body accepts it."

Gandalf only nodded in satisfaction, and it was Elladan who spoke next, "But, Ada, what proof do we have that it would work? Mithrandir, what did you mean?"

Turning in Elladan's direction, Gandalf lifted a bushy eyebrow. "Your brother is just now suffering from another attack of the poison, is he not?"

Nodding, Elladan glanced briefly at Aragorn, who had taken to sitting on his hands again to stop himself from scratching the still itching rash.

"Now, this rash of his may be itchy and uncomfortable," Gandalf said, ignoring Aragorn's soft 'hear, hear' and continuing with a raised forefinger, "but, this rash is not lethal. A bit of fever, some scratching, perhaps a few scars when this stage is over, but this phase is harmless in comparison to the other attacks of the poison."

Eyes brightening, Elladan glanced from Aragorn to Gandalf and back. "He is right!" he said, jumping to his feet. "This stage is not lethal, but all others were, in a way. This could prove that the Tulcoindo has worked to fight the poison."

"But what if not? What if we are wrong?" Elrohir threw in, looking doubtful. "What if this stage of the poison is not that strong or lethal, because….well because the original poison loses its hold on Estel? What if the poison grows weaker on its own?"

Stopping in his pacing, Elrond let his arms fall to his sides. "These are all only theories. We cannot know for sure until we have tried."

Turning around, Gandalf fixed Elrond with his look. "You mean to try it then? Give it to him?"

"Aye." Elrond nodded. "In a small dose only. But, it is definitely better than the procedure that I came up with. Of course, there will be side effects."

Legolas licked his lips. "What kind of side effects?"

"Well, foxglove is a toxin itself." Elrond began to count off the different possible side effects on his fingers, "Dizziness, weakness of the muscles, tiredness, headaches, over-excitement, vomiting. There could be more, but I think these are the main symptoms of a foxglove poisoning."

Having slightly paled, Legolas moved a hand through his hair. "Well, that sounds not too bad. How quickly could you separate the foxglove from the Tulcoindo and give it to him?"

That did it. So far, Aragorn had sat still in his huge bed, listening to all that had been said. Had his family even noticed that he was in the room, too? That he was listening to the conversation? Breathing an exaggerated and only _slightly_ annoyed sigh, Aragorn lifted a hand and put it high into the air, waving it around a little for good measure.

"He is here and he can hear you perfectly well. And he has an opinion on this matter, too."

Five pairs of eyes locked on Aragorn's face, and with lifted eyebrows, Aragorn let his hand sink down again. He had made his point.

Elrond cleared his throat, but he tried his best not to look flustered. "Well, Estel? What is your opinion on this?"

"I want to try it," he said matter-of-factly. To drink some foxglove tea and face the side effects sounded a million times better than being cut open and bleed almost to death.

Clapping his hands in enthusiasm, Gandalf let out a satisfied grunt. "It is settled then. Elrond, to work!"

And with that, Gandalf steered Elrond from the room, and after a few encouraging words, the twins left as well to sleep a few hours. Legolas, on the other hand, stayed for a few moments longer.

While Aragorn vanished deeper into the cushions and the light covers that he had been given to not aggravate his rash too much, Legolas stepped up to the balcony doors, glancing outside.

The moon was a few days past full, and its silver light glittered on the snow, bathing the valley in a wondrous dream, with twinkling rivers and light blue shadows. Frost flowers grew outside on the window, and Legolas traced their outline with his fingers for a moment, before he smiled gently.

"So you have decided to live, then?" Legolas asked softly, watching Aragorn's reflection in the glass window.

"It seems so," Aragorn said, staring at the ceiling. "I have had a lot of time to think since I woke up."

Still staring at the reflection in the window, Legolas asked softly, "And have you come to a conclusion?"

Aragorn nodded. He turned his head into Legolas's direction and caught his eyes in the window.

"Nobody ever said that life would be easy, and what seems like an easy way out, an open door, can actually be a dark tunnel that has neither a beginning, nor an end."

Smiling, Legolas shook his head. "You speak in riddles."

"Ah, finally you know how I feel all the time." Aragorn grinned, but his eyes stayed serious. "Legolas, the things I said to you…I am sorry. Truly sorry."

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "You were in pain, scared, confused."

"That is no excuse for hurting my best friend." Sitting up in bed, Aragorn struggled for words for a moment, before he sighed deeply.

"Legolas, I asked of you the one thing that no one should ask a friend, nay, a brother in all means but blood. How could I ask you to stand by and watch me kill myself? I know that, had you asked this of me, I could not have done it. But you, you proved to be a true friend. Neither did you leave me alone, nor did you stop me."

Here Aragorn stopped, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "But I still live, and not only did I accuse you of betraying me, I also blamed you for the pain I would be forced to endure now."

Aragorn tried to catch Legolas's eyes in the window, but the elf had averted his eyes. His fingers were still absently tracing the outline of the frost flowers, and his head was bowed slightly.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, but when he got no answer from his friend, he pushed down the covers and crawled from the bed. He flinched when his broken ribs protested the movement, and when a sharp pain shot through his knee, but he managed to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. Grimacing when his naked feet hit the cold floor, Aragorn made his way slowly over to where Legolas stood.

"I was a coward, Legolas," he said softly, placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder.

"No, you were not, Estel," Legolas said quietly, while he lifted his head and caught Aragorn's searching gaze in the window. "What you did, you did not only for yourself, but for us as well. I know that. But, I felt so…lonely, that night. As if my world was dying with you." And in a smaller voice he added, "You are the only true friend I ever had."

"I am so sorry, Legolas. So sorry." Aragorn took another step closer, and Legolas placed his own hand across Aragorn's.

"Iston, mellon nin. Do not worry about that anymore." Legolas smiled gently, although his eyes showed for the shortest of moments the fear and pain he had suffered during those long hours at night when he had sat with a dying Aragorn.

Releasing a shaking breath, Aragorn closed his eyes and bowed his head. "How can I ever ask you to trust me again? To believe in me, my strength of mind, my determination, my will to live?"

"Estel, look at me," Legolas said, squeezing Aragorn's hand.

And Aragorn did look up, meeting Legolas's gaze in the window. "Estel, that you stand here and apologize, that you ask me these questions, that you are willing to talk about what happened and that you now face another treatment with poison to resume the fight to live…all that shows me that you have learned what was to learn in these last few days. That you will not seek the darkness again, but search for the light. I see still the darkness in your eyes that tried to claim you, Estel, but it is receding."

"Now you are talking in riddles," Aragorn said, smiling gently.

Giving Aragorn's hand another squeeze, Legolas gave him a minute smile, "Then we are even."

They stood for a moment longer, gazing out at the sleeping valley of Imladris, both thinking about the things that had been said, and more importantly about those that had not been said.

Tomorrow would be a new day, with new challenges. But both friends knew that they were now not fighting alone any longer, but that they were fighting for the same thing, together, as one.

Tbc…

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**Here is a new chapter. And I welcome all the new readers, thanks for your reviews! And of course, thank you 'oldies' too! You are all so wonderful. -g- **

**What do you think about this chapter? Good or bad? **

**Seeing that the new chapter will definitely come after the holidays (work overload, christmas shopping, family visit, office representative, christmas office festivities/activities, new year... you get what I mean -hihi-): Happy Holidays!**


	48. 47 Out Of The Frying Pan

**°peeks out from under the table° Hello? Before you say it, I know this chapter is long overdue. I tried my best, but time and real life seems to be against me lately. °g° So, please use the rotting tomatoes and the stinking eggs to feed your beloved pets, rather than throwing them at me...please?**

**Anyway, here is the new chapter and I hope you like it. I'll try my very best to post the new chapter sooner, promise. Thank you very much for all the nice reviews, they mean so much to me. So, enough babbling, on with the story. You have waited long enough as it is. °g°****

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**Beta: Chris**

_Elvish translations:_

Mîn, tâd, nêledth, canad, leben, eneg: One, two, three, four, five, six

Haran: hundred

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--oOo--

"_Evil walks in the shadow of all that is good. We merely cannot see it because we are blinded by the light of good."_

_(unknown)_

--oOo--

* * *

Chapter 47: Out of the frying pan...

The days passed incredibly slowly, at least for most of the household of the Last Homely House. While they went after their normal daily routines, cleaning the house, baking, cooking and composing new, inspiring songs, Aragorn could not help but get more and more nervous. The first day after the new attack, his father's treatments and the terrible itch kept him from doing much, but with the lessening of the itch and the pain, his thoughts kept turning back to what was yet to come.

Somewhere in the other wing of the house, behind closed doors, his father and Gandalf were trying to separate the foxglove from the Tulcoindo, and from time to time strange noises could be heard coming from the room, while steam crept from under the door. Everybody was curious as to what they were doing in there, but neither Elrond nor Gandalf were willing to let anybody enter, claiming that it was too risky. They would not see the potion they were preparing to be destroyed by accident.

Once, on the second day, the twins had freed one of the ancient mirrors out of its frame and slid the glass under the door to see what their father and Gandalf were doing. They ended up with bumps on their heads from the door that Gandalf had slammed against their foreheads – quite by accident, as he claimed later with a twinkle in his eyes.

The same day, the rangers went on another hunting trip outside the valley, taking the twins with them, on Elrond's order. And, much to Aragorn's regret, Legolas, too. It had taken much convincing and pleading, but in the end Legolas had agreed to join them on the hunt. And Aragorn could not really blame him. For days his friend had been cooped up inside the house, sitting at his sickbed, doing practically nothing but worrying. From his own experience, Aragorn knew that Legolas needed the sun and the trees to live, to be happy and refill his energy. Legolas deserved a day full of fresh air, sunshine and activity. Had he not been feeling so weak still, Aragorn would have joined them. But, as it was, he called himself lucky that his father had actually allowed him to leave his bed. The party would return tomorrow, in time for his next attack. To be there should something not go as planned.

So, for the whole second day after his last attack, Aragorn had done his best not to get bored. To do something, to divert his attention from what was to come, and the nagging question whether his father and Gandalf would really be able to finish the potion in time, he had sat in the library, browsing through books. But, honestly, how many times could one read "Arda, A History" (without any pictures!) and not get bored?

For hours he had strolled through the house, doing this and that, but his ribs had begun to hurt and his injured knee had started pounding again, forcing him back to his room and the fluffy armchair; because he was not going back to that bed until it was time to actually sleep. The only thing was that his room was no longer "his" room. A troop of household staff had seized the chance of his absence, quickly taken up broom and mop, and started cleaning the whole room, windows included. When Aragorn set a toe over the threshold, the smell of soap and wax caught in his nose and made him gag; he decided that a visit to the stables was maybe a good idea.

Well, the fact that Glorfindel would not let him exit the house, claiming that he was too weak and ill yet, made that impossible. With a great sigh and rolling his eyes, Aragorn ventured into the kitchen, where he spent the rest of the afternoon, drinking tea and watching the cooks first clean the kitchen from the midday meal, then preparing dinner. He did not talk much and turned down the offered food, and instead did his best to think about nothing at all. Needless to say, it did not work. At all.

When it was time for dinner, they all gathered in the dining room, being presented with delicious smelling food and excellent wine. To his own surprise, Aragorn was not hungry at all, despite the fact that he had not eaten anything during the day. But, as soon as a plate with food was set in front of him, his throat seemed to close, and he could not eat more than a few bites. The amount of food he had eaten during the whole day was less than he had eaten as a four year old. Still, try as he might, Aragorn could not bring himself to eat more, and so he satisfied himself with drinking another cup of strong tea.

Of course, neither Elrond nor Gandalf or Glorfindel missed his lack of appetite, but they said nothing, knowing that he was trying. After the meal, Elrond and Gandalf once more vanished in their room, smiling at him encouragingly, and Glorfindel went on his daily inspection of the guards' quarters. And Aragorn? He spent the evening in the Hall of Fire, staring into the flames in the hearth and listening with only half an ear to the songs being sung and the stories being told.

When he went to bed after applying anitch-reducing salve to his chest s, Aragorn told himself that tomorrow, his brothers and Legolas would return, ending his boredom. And the day after that, he would perhaps finally know whether the foxglove would work or not. With a shudder, Aragorn thought that he really did not want to think about what would happen should the foxglove not help him.

--oOo--

Yawning wildly, Aragorn scratched his chest lightly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His knee still hurt from his walking around the day before, and the temperature in the room made him shiver, but all in all he felt relatively good this morning. That was, until he reached out and pulled away the curtains from the windows. The sight that presented itself made him gasp, staring open-mouthed outside. This could not be true, it could not!

Snow, everywhere! The snow that lay on the balcony, pressing against the glass doors reached up to Aragorn's knees; it made the branches of the trees creak under its weight, buried garden benches and hid ways and roads. Well, even some of the smaller, frozen rivers had vanished under the masses and masses of snow that had fallen during the night. And even while Aragorn watched, stunned, new snowflakes began to fall down from the grey sky, gently at first until the heavy snowfall hid the valley from view.

Letting his arms fall to his sides, Aragorn shook his head sadly, "They will never make it back in time with this snow."

--oOo--

"Wonderful idea, really. Let's go hunting; it will be fun. Ha!" Legolas huffed agitatedly, leaning against the cave wall. If looks could kill, neither the rangers nor the twins would be still alive. Since Legolas had woken up that morning to find the forest buried under the snow, his mood had gone from shocked to bad to worse. Right now, late in the morning, he was staring furiously at each and every snowflake, and Elladan really did not want to know what he would do to the innocent flakes, where they not just snowflakes but…well, anything else.

From the back of the cave, where the hunting party had spent the night, Halbarad's voice could be heard. "You could still go back, you know. I mean, as elves, the snow will not trouble you like it will us."

"What? And leave the horses, the game and you here alone?" Legolas spat, not even turning around. "Aragorn would tear me limb from limb if he hears that we left you behind in the freezing cold."

A frustrated sigh could be heard amid soft chuckles, and Halbarad tried again to reason with the Prince. "You know, despite what is told sometimes, humans, and especially rangers, do not die from spending some time in a forest…cave. And we are perfectly capable of finding our way back to Imladris."

Legolas simply grumbled something that was too soft for the rangers to understand, and after a silent minute, Halbarad threw his hands into the air, giving up on his attempts to brighten the Wood-elf's mood.

While it was true that the snow would make it impossible for the rangers and the horses to return to Imladris right now, it would be no problem for the three elves to leave the cave and return. They could walk on snow, after all, and even the cold was no hindrance for them. But, the snowstorm that was raging just outside the cave was. It blocked all the light and made it impossible to see more than a yard; not even an elf would be able to find his way in this storm.

Looking around at the sombre faces of the rangers, Elladan sighed heavily. The longer they stayed in here, the higher the chances that they would really not be back in time for Aragorn's next attack. Yesterday, when the sky had been clear and the sun shining, Elladan had really thought that a hunting trip was a good idea, but right now…

Letting his gaze travel to Elrohir, who was sitting opposite him, Elladan could tell that his brother had entertained similar thoughts. He could actually see his brother thinking hard, trying to find a way to return to Imladris on time. Another half hour passed by, but the snowstorm did not lessen, and when another bout of heavy snow was blown into the cave, wetting not only Legolas (who had not moved an inch away from the cave entrance), but threatened to smother the fire as well, Elrohir suddenly got to his feet.

"Ro?"

Straightening his shirt and tightening his cloak around him, Elrohir walked purposefully to the entrance of the cave. "I will make sure the horses are all right."

"Care if I join you?" And before Elrohir could answer, Elladan had pulled up his hood and was at his side. Together they left the cave, heads bowed to evade at least some of the snow and wind. Legolas and the rangers watched them go silently, and while the rangers thought that the twins were checking on the horses, Legolas knew better. Oh, they would make sure that the horses, which had been left in another cave, were all right, but at the same time the twins would have one of their heated discussions. With a grim look, Legolas hoped that they would decide to leave, no matter what.

The twins entered the other, slightly bigger cave and wiped the snow out of their faces and hair. Although they had been in the storm for barely a few minutes, their cloaks were covered in snow and their faces red from the biting wind. The horses snorted in welcome, and without a word the twins began to walk around, scratching a nose here and patting a long neck there. While the horses of the rangers pawed the ground nervously, the elvish trained steeds nibbled gently at the twins' sleeves and cloaks, and it took not much time to satisfy the twins that the horses would be fine. The storm was frightening them, but the presence of the elvish horses calmed the other horses enough to keep them in the cave and in safety.

Elrohir was just scratching his own horse behind the ears affectionately when he heard his brother's voice. "Elrohir, what are we going to do?"

"We cannot leave them here alone; it is too dangerous," Elrohir said, although his heart asked him to return to his home and his little brother.

"They are rangers." Elladan shrugged. "They are not made of butter. Ever have the Dunedain been hardy, strong people."

That was true, of course. The presence of the elves would not change the fate of the rangers. They would have to wait in the cave until the snowstorm passed, and nothing could change that. But still, what Legolas had said earlier was true, too. If Aragorn heard that his brothers and best friend had left the rangers alone in the middle of a snowstorm, he would be furious. No, Elrohir mused, he would not be furious about that, claiming that the rangers were perfectly able to look after themselves. No, he would be absolutely mad because his brothers and best friend had risked their lives in a snowstorm just to be at his side when he was undergoing a new attack.

With a sigh, Elrohir turned to look at his brother, and he saw all his own musings reflected in his twin's eyes. "The storm is too strong. Even if we find the right way, we will be slowed down too much. We will never reach Imladris in time, Dan."

"But if we leave right now…" Elladan began, but he stopped mid sentence. Shaking his head, he gazed at the swirling snow outside. "Legolas will not like this."

When they returned to the cave, Legolas needed only one look to see the answer to his question in their faces. With a frustrated and angry huff, he turned his gaze back to the storm, wishing it to stop. But of course, it did not, and when the sun sank behind the horizon, hidden behind thick grey clouds, the storm was still raging, having lost none of its strength.

--oOo--

Another sigh left his lips, and Aragorn could not help but shake his head miserably. He had known that it was unlikely that his brothers and friends would make it back in time, but when he had woken up on the fourth day after his last attack to see the storm still blowing, if not as strong anymore, he had known for sure that they would not be at his side when the new attack was due. That, and the fact that his father and Gandalf were not yet ready with the potion, Erestor with the uneasy horses in the stables (even elvish horses got skittish after a storm that lasted for days) and Glorfindel busy with the coordination of the teams of elves that removed the masses of snow from roofs before they collapsed under the weight, left Aragorn alone in the big house. Yes, there were the servants, but they were neither close family nor friends, and with every hour that passed, Aragorn felt his calm leave him.

When would the poison attack again? Would the potion be ready in time? Would it work? What if it did not? And as if these questions were not torment enough, Aragorn was beginning to get worried for the hunting party. He knew that they were all experienced hunters and experts in woodcraft; his brothers knew the woods outside of the valley better than anyone else, but still…Had they found shelter in time? Did they have enough food and firewood? And what if something had happened to them out there? There was no possibility to know, and the longer Aragorn dwelled on these thoughts, the more restless he became.

Closing the book he had been reading…staring at it without even knowing what the book was about, Aragorn sighed deeply and tilted his head to the side to work out the kinks in his neck. The fire in the library had burned low, and it was getting dark in the room, but Aragorn could not bring himself to get up and add another log to the fire. Instead, he stared into the glimmering embers, letting his thoughts run free.

What would the newest stage of the poison be? Something very painful? Or rather something that messed with his mind, like the one time when he had hallucinated? A shudder raced down his back when he once more saw the vivid images of the dead rangers in his mind's eye. That had really been a horrible thing to experience. Maybe even worse than the bodily pain.

Another thought came to his mind, and Aragorn bit his lip. What if the poison would play no longer with him, but actually kill him now? Maybe the last, slightly weaker phases, had only been a ruse of the poison, to give him a false sense of securitygain him in safety, only to attack doubly hard the next time? But, he mused dryly, what could be worse than being paralysed, unable to breathe, see hallucinations or itch everywhere?

A sarcastic chuckle escaped him, and Aragorn grimaced weakly. Surely the poison would find a way to make his life even more miserable than it had been during the last stages. Why, had Gandalf not told them that no one had survived the poison yet? That some had even killed themselves before the last stage of the poison?

Frowning, Aragorn had to admit that he, too, had tried to find an escape that way; he was not better than all the others who had been poisoned. So, what made him think that he would conquer this evil? Quickly, his thoughts began to once more walk down a dark, depressive road, and when Aragorn realised that he was once again beginning to despair, he shook his head vehemently.

"I am not going to die!" he said loudly to convince himself.

Aragorn almost dropped the book he was still holding when a voice answered him from the dark doorway. "No, you are not, my son. At least not today."

"Ada, I did not hear you," Aragorn said, blinking to bring the figure of his father into focus. He had not even realised that he had been staring into nothingness for such a long time that his eyes had trouble focusing.

Smiling, his father lit a few candles on a shelf and made his way over to where Aragorn sat in front of the weakly burning fire. "Mithrandir and I have just finished the potion." Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's forehead, feeling his temperature. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Aragorn said, maybe a bit too quickly, but his father simply nodded and sat down in the chair opposite of Aragorn. In the dying fire, the elven Lord looked tired; there were dark circles under his eyes, the clothes had crinkles, giving away that he had not changed them in days, his hair was not as neatly braided as it used to be, and his otherwise so sparkling eyes were dull.

Suddenly, Aragorn felt guilty for having kept his father from sleeping and eating properly, from causing him so much worry during the last weeks. Placing a hand on his father's knee, Aragorn looked earnestlyinto his eyes.

"Ada, I am sorry for causing all this trouble. You…"

But before he could say more, his father shook his head. "This is not your fault, Estel. Never think that way, you hear me, my son?"

"But, I…."

"No but, Estel. This is not your fault. And, ah well." Elrond got to his feet, pulling Aragorn up with him. A mischievous smile played around his lips. "Your and your brothers' escapades keep me young."

Smiling, Aragorn quipped, "I thought elves never get old. You are immortal, after all."

"Ah, but that is only on the outside, young one. Inside, we age as every other race does," Elrond said, and when Aragorn gave him a questioning look, Elrond wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "One day, Estel, you will understand what I mean."

"I will?" Aragorn asked, while he let his father steer him down the corridor to the healing wing.

Elrond nodded knowingly. "Aye, you will. The Dunedain, and especially those of pure blood, age slower than other humans, as you well know." Aragorn grimaced knowingly, remembering one time in Bree with the rangers, when the innkeeper had referred to him as 'that tall child over there'.

Elrond paused for a few seconds, studying his son's face curiously before he continued, "Estel, have you ever thought about the fact that when you are, say, eighty, you will look no day older than forty?"

Aragorn stared at his father for a moment, before he slowly shook his head. "Nay, I have not."

"Mhm." His father made, but said no more, and so they walked down the corridor in silence for some time, until Aragorn spoke up again, "So, when I'm hundred, I will still be as agile as with fifty?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Elrond merely smiled and shook his head. "Estel, I really hope you are." And his in mind, he added silently, 'I hope you live to see your hundredth birthday, my son.'

Feeling better than he had all day, Aragorn followed his father into the main healing room, where Gandalf was already waiting. Looking up when father and son entered, Gandalf combed through his long beard with his fingers. Behind him on one of the examination tables stood a few glass bottles and an innocent looking cup.

The gentle smile on Aragorn's face slowly vanished. So far, on his way between the library and the healing room, Aragorn had successfully managed to forget why he was going to the healing wing, but seeing Gandalf stand there in front of the bottles made it all come back with a vengeance. Swallowing thickly and wiping his suddenly sweaty hands at his pants, Aragorn took a step in the direction of the bottles.

He did not know why, but he suddenly felt like a rabbit trapped in the gaze of a snake. Should he run or stay as still as possible so that he was not seen and nothing would happen? Aragorn did not know how long he simply stood there, staring at the glass bottles, but eventually it was Gandalf who broke the spell and brought him back to the presence.

Clearing his throat loudly, the wizard smacked his lips. "Just in time, Elrond, Estel." And with a flourish he reached behind him, picked up one of the bottles in which a brown substance splashed sluggishly. Once more, Aragorn swallowed thickly.

Giving Aragorn a little push, Elrond moved to stand next to Gandalf, taking up the empty cup and handing it to the wizard, who poured the brown substance into it. Aragorn could not help but wrinkle his nose at the foul smell that reached him. The brown slime (he really had no better word for it) poured forth into the cup until the last drop was gone, and with a satisfied grunt Gandalf swirled it around in the cup before he handed it to Aragorn.

Taking the cup with still sweaty hands, Aragorn sniffed at it. It smelled like…troll feet, yes, that was it. Giving it an experimental swirl himself, Aragorn could not help but think snail slime…or a troll who had walked through snail slime.

"Uhm, I thought you tried to extricate the foxglove from the Tulcoindo," Aragorn said doubtingly, causing Gandalf and Elrond to exchange a look.

"Well," Elrond began, clasping his hands behind his back, "it was a bit more difficult than we had initially thought, and we were forced to add some substances that would separate the foxglove from the other ingredients. We tried a few things, but in the end we decided that…"

Aragorn interrupted him quickly, having decided that he really did not want to know, "Good, good. That's all I wanted to know." Giving his father and Gandalf a brief smile, Aragorn sniffed again at the cup.

"So, this is it, then, I suppose."

"Ah, almost," Gandalf said, lifting a finger into the air and reaching behind him. The bottle that he presented now to Aragorn held a green substance, and immediately Aragorn felt his stomach revolt. This substance looked like…frog slime…frog slime with small black spots. A shudder went down Aragorn spine. Ugh…

"And that is….?" he asked questioningly, watching Gandalf pour the frog slime into the cup, where it mixed with the snail slime into…frog-snail-slime.

"Just for the taste," Gandalf said, winking at him.

Taking a deep breath and wishing Gandalf into the deepest chasm that existed on Arda in this very moment, Aragorn licked his lips. If this potion did not work, then he would either have to undergo his father's treatment of blood letting, or die from the poison. While the first was frightening enough, the latter was no option at all.

"Well then," he said, "Cheers." And before either Gandalf or Elrond could say more, Aragorn closed his eyes and drank deeply. The potion burned on his tongue and seemed too thick to swallow, but he drank it all without pausing. When the last droplet was gone, he grimaced and coughed, shaking his head in disgust.

"That was awful," he said, placing the now empty cup back on the table. "But when it helps." Shrugging, Aragorn looked around searchingly for a pitcher of water or anything else to get rid of that disgusting taste in his mouth. If troll feet tasted that way, then he knew why even scavengers did not eat dead trolls.

"I'm sorry my son, but the potion has to enter your bloodstream as quickly as possible. Any water or tea or other fluid would dilute the potion," Elrond said, and Aragorn turned wide, disbelieving eyes on his father. This must be a joke…

"But," Gandalf said, reaching behind him once more, "this will help against the taste." And he presented some green leaves to Aragorn.

"Parsley?" Aragorn asked surprised.

"Aye. I found that parsley has the wonderful ability to help with these kinds of ailments." Gandalf said, and when Aragorn merely gazed at him, he added with a wink, "It even helps in the morning after a night with too much ale."

While Elrond shot his friend a questioning look, Aragorn smiled knowingly and began to chew on the parsley. In but a few seconds the fresh taste of the parsley had erased the troll-frog-snail slime, for which Aragorn was very grateful.

"And now?" Aragorn asked, looking from Gandalf to his father.

"Now, " Elrond said, "we wait."

--oOo--

And waiting, they did. Neither of them slept that night, and when morning dawned grey and windy, Aragorn felt nervous enough to explode. Why, now he even wished for the poison to attack, so that this terrible waiting would be over. His father and Gandalf had not left him alone for one minute, and every time he so much as scratched his nose, both would lean forwards where they sat, frowning and narrowing their eyes until they were sure that it was not the poison.

It was mid morning already and the poison had not attacked yet. Taking a breath, Aragorn finally asked the question that had been on his mind for the last hours . "When do we know whether it had worked or not? I mean, when can we be sure?"

"I don't know," Elrond said from his position by one of the windows. "The last phase of the poison was a bit late, so maybe this will be late, too." He shot a look at Gandalf. "What say you? Five days, six, before we can be sure?"

"Maybe," Gandalf mused, puffing on his pipe.

"Well, at least the storm has stopped," Aragorn said, gazing outside and rubbing at his eyes when a gush of cold air from under the window made them water. "When do you think they will be back?" Aragorn asked, turning around.

"I think…" Gandalf began, but he stopped short, and his eyes went wide when he looked at Aragorn's face. "Elrond!" he said sharply, his eyes never leaving Aragorn's face.

"W-what?" Aragorn asked, unsure what was going on. "Gandalf?"

When Elrond looked at his son, he took in a sharp breath that was not lost on Aragorn. "Ada? What is it?" Aragorn asked, feeling confused. What were Gandalf and his father staring at? He was feeling normal; everything was fine. Slowly, Elrond's gaze travelled from Aragorn's face to his hands, then back up again, and turning a bit pale, Elrond slowly walked up to him.

Following his father's gaze, Aragorn looked at his right hand, and what he saw made him stumble back a step and suck in his breath sharply. There was blood on his fingers, but they were not cut or bleeding. He…he had rubbed his eyes with those fingers, his eyes, which had been watering….

Turning as pale as the snow outside, Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, snapped it shut again, and before he knew what he was doing, he was sprinting to the next mirror.

"Estel!" His father's voice called for him, but Aragorn did not stop in his mad dash out of the room and down the corridor; there was a mirror in the entrance hall. Ignoring the pain in his knee, Aragorn skittered across the polished floor, into the entrance hall and in front of the framed mirror.

Eyes wide in disbelief and not a small portion of shock, he stared at his picture in the mirror. His eyes were not only bloodshot, they were red! The whole white of them was looking bruised and red, and where he had rubbed his eyes, his skin was bloody.

Too shocked to speak, Aragorn lifted a hand to touch his eyes, but his father's hand caught his arm before he could touch his face. "Don't Estel. Let me have a look at you first." Elrond's voice sounded controlled, but Aragorn could hear the slight tremor in it, and it caused him to get into a full blown panic.

All the anxiety of the last days, the fear for his brothers and friend, the uncertainty, the pain and nervousness and last but not least all the frustration, he had felt over the last few weeks broke free now.

"Look at me!" he yelled, and his voice echoed off the walls. "My eyes, Ada! Look at them!" Taking a step back from his father and wrenching his arm free from his hold, Aragorn gazed once more into the mirror. "I….what…"

"Estel, please, calm down," Elrond said, approaching.

But Aragorn turned around, yelling once more, "Calm down? Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when my eyes are bleeding?"

"Because screaming will not help you," Elrond said calmly, but he did not try to approach Aragorn again, staying where he was.

Oh, Aragorn knew that his father was right, but right now he did not care, not really. All his emotions where boiling inside him and with a frustrated yell Aragorn slammed his hand right into the mirror. It cracked with a clear sound and shards flew through the air and rained to the ground.

Panting, Aragorn gazed at the destroyed mirror, not even registering the pain in his bleeding hand. It was eerily silent for a few moments, and then his father's gentle voice reached his ears. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Aye," Aragorn said, taking another breath. And it was true, he was actually feeling better. As if reacting as he had, had reduced the stress and all the bottled up emotions that had been in him. While his father first wrapped a cloth around his bleeding hand and then began to examine his eyes, Aragorn said nothing, feeling slightly ashamed for his outburst.

After a first, quick examination, Elrond led him into one of the healing rooms, with Gandalf following them on the heels. With the sky outside still hidden by thick grey clouds, the light in the healing room was dim, and while Elrond talked soothingly to Aragorn and made him sit on one of the examination tables, Gandalf went around the room and lit as many candles as he could find.

With a bowl of water in one and a very thin candle in the other hand, the wizard approached the quietly talking pair. Elrond just patted Aragorn's knee and gave him a reassuring smile. Aragorn, still looking extremely pale and upset, tried his best to calm down, but Gandalf could tell that this stage of the poison was scaring the young man, maybe more than some of the other phases.

"Thank you, Mithrandir." Elrond took the water and candle, placing the former on the table and lifting the other. "Lift your head, Estel. Take a spot somewhere on the ceiling and look at it."

Aragorn did his best to comply, but when his father approached with the candle, the bright flame close to his eyes, he shied away, blinking. Knowing he was acting foolish, as his father would never hurt him, Aragorn took a deep breath, lifted his head once more and stared at a spot somewhere above his father's head.

The candle approached and he could see his father's face out of the corner of his eye, bleary and out of focus. With gentle fingers his father began to touch his eyes, first the left, then the right, lifting his eyelids and shining into his eyes as best as he could with the candle. So close was Elrond that Aragorn could feel the heat of the candle on his skin and smell the slowly melting wax. A sudden gush of wind made the flame sputter, sending tiny drops of molten wax to land on his cheek.

Aragorn felt his hands sweat and his breathing hitched. His father had not yet spoken a single word, which was…unnerving. It was so silent in the room that Aragorn could hear even elven footsteps on the corridor outside. Sill fixing his gaze on the spot on the ceiling, Aragorn more felt than saw Gandalf approach him. The wizard bent over him and his long beard tickled his face, and all Aragorn could do was sit as still as possible. Something cold touched his right eye, and it took all his self-control to not blink against the foreign feeling.

The candle light came even closer, so close that he could not see his spot anymore, and Aragorn began to silently count in his head. '_Mîn, tâd, nêledth, canad, leben, eneg…_' Something cold touched his other eye, and Aragorn could not stop it but blinked a few times. His eyes immediately started to burn and water, and a warm tear rolled down his cheek. Wiping it away quickly, Aragorn refused to look at his fingers, knowing that he would probably lose his control if he saw blood on his fingers.

"Look at the ceiling, Estel, and do not move or blink too much," Elrond said, sounding calm, actually using his healer-voice. Doing as he was told, Aragorn resumed his staring and counting. His eyes were prodded and poked softly, until at last, when Aragorn had reached 'haran', his father and Gandalf finally let go of him. They exchanged a look, some hidden conversation took place, and then they nodded in unison. Had Aragorn not been busily blinking and avoiding looking at his hands, it had actually been funny.

The longer neither his father nor the wizard spoke, the more Aragorn felt nervous? What if his eyes were damaged beyond repair? What if this was permanent? A ranger needed his eyes, without his eyes, a ranger was absolutely useless. No more hunting, no more fighting, no more actively leading his men, no more tracking, no more…no more 'Strider'.

Summoning all his bravery, Aragorn asked a bit hoarsely, "Ada?"

Turning to look at him, his father smiled and patted his knee once more. "I think this is not serious, my son. The blood vessels in your eyes have erupted, causing your eye apple to bleed. The excess blood is now trying to find a way out; that is why your tears are mixed with blood. But I think this will heal relatively quickly."

Nodding, Gandalf stroked his long beard. "Aye, I am sure it will. Do you have any pain, Estel? Do your eyes hurt, or burn or feel different than usual? Do you have a headache?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Nay, I feel absolutely normal." The tight knot in his stomach had loosened with his father words, and he smiled shakily. "So, what now?"

"We will clean your eyes with water," Elrond said, already on his way to fill the bowl with fresh water. "And then we will simply have to wait till this stops. I think you should close your eyes for some hours, so that they can heal. No light, no wind, no pressure," Elrond said, lifting an eyebrow.

Feeling immensely relieved, Aragorn grinned. "Whatever you say, Ada, as long as I do not have to drink one of your special teas."

"Mh." Elrond made, pouring fresh water into the bowl. "When you behave…"

"Oh, I will," Aragorn said immediately, nodding, and he did not even resist when Gandalf gently made him lie flat on his back on the examination table, positioning a towel under his head.

Together with Gandalf, Elrond slowly poured small doses of water into Aragorn's eyes to clean them of the blood, and Aragorn did his best not to fidget or blink too much. His father was just drying his right eye with a clean cloth, when Aragorn dared to ask, "Ada, do you think the foxglove has worked or…do you think this new attack proves that it has not?"

Elrond did not answer for a moment, but then he tilted his head to the side like he always did when he was a bit uncertain. "This stage is in no way lethal, and while it is frightening, it does no real damage. Why, you are not even in any pain."

"So….?" Aragorn asked, looking from his father to Gandalf.

"Estel, it may be too early to be sure. But I think," here Elrond shot a quick look in Gandalf's direction. "But I think the foxglove did work."

It was as if someone had just lifted him off his feet, swung him through the air and set him down on an anthill. Aragorn could feel his lips form into a huge grin. "Really? I mean, you are not only trying to calm me down because I look like an orc with these red eyes?"

"No, I mean what I said," Elrond said, and before Aragorn knew what had happened, his father had engulfed him in a bone crushing hug, laughing. And Aragorn hugged him back fiercely before he broke away, clasping Gandalf's arm in gratefulness.

"Wait till Dan, Ro and Legolas and all the others hear this," Aragorn said, probably happier than he had been in his whole life.

--oOo--

"This was stupid idea," Legolas said, stomping over another snow drift. "No, not only stupid, but foolish. Ah, what am I saying? Absolutely mad!" He walked a few more feet in silence, then stopped in his tracks and turned around. Behind him, the horses, guided by the rangers and the twins, were making their way ever so slowly through the thick snow. While the twins were walking lightly atop the snow, horses and men had sunk deep into it, and they more crawled than actually walked. Huffing and crossing his arms across his chest, Legolas muttered, "Shortcut, I give them shortcut. Not even Estel would have come up with such a stupid plan."

"It was not stupid." Elladan called up to him, causing some snow to fall from a branch.

"And I say it was!" Legolas called back, frustrated and angry with the twins. They had started their journey back that very morning, when the storm had been over, and Legolas had really thought that they would manage to be at the Last Homely House a few hours after nightfall. Now it was midday and they had not even come half of the way. And that, Legolas mused darkly, was only the twin's fault.

He waited till the others had sidled up to him, then walked on again. He was an elf, after all, and even if the rangers and the horses had difficulties moving through the thick snow, he could walk atop it, or he could run through the trees. It was the fifth day now after the last attack, and Legolas just knew that something had happened to Aragorn and that he had missed the last attack. He wanted to be at his side, help him, support him. But where was he now? Hiking through the snow somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and all because the twins had convinced him to follow their 'shortcut'.

Snorting very unelflike, Legolas kicked the snow furiously. Shortcut, indeed. Shortcut to the long way, more like it. Yes, maybe the twins knew this terrain better than he did, but had they not said that they would reach a tunnel in the cliffs surrounding the valley by noon? A tunnel where the snow would not be that high because of the cliff walls? Aye, they had. So, where was it? All that Legolas could see were trees, and trees and more trees. Maybe this was the first time in all his life that Legolas actually wished to see stone instead of trees. And that was reason enough for him to shoot Elladan and Elrohir a dark scowl and wish them on the highest peak of Caradhras.

"Really, Legolas, there is a secret tunnel into the valley, and it will be almost free of snow. Once we reach it, we will be home in no time," Elrohir said, trying to placate the Prince. But when Legolas said nothing, just gave him another dark look, Elrohir took a deep breath. "Legolas, do you think I 'want' to be out here right now? I want to be home with Estel, as you do! He is my brother, after all, and I want to be with him when the next stage of the poison attacks. Do you think Dan or I would go this way if we had any doubts that it would prolong our way?"

Hearing those words, Legolas felt suddenly very foolish. Having the grace to blush slightly, he shook his head. "No, of course not. Ah, I am sorry, Elrohir. It is just…just…." Legolas waved his arms around, shrugging.

Coming up to him, Elladan wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It's alright, mellon nin. We understand how you feel." And with the rangers and horses fighting their way through the deep snow, the group walked on. It was only an hour past noon, when the twins stopped in their tracks, and Elrohir pointed ahead, grinning.

"See?" he asked mockingly. "We said there is a snow free tunnel."

And there was. Oh, Legolas knew that there were many secret ways that led down into the hidden valley of Imladris, and he even was of the opinion that he knew most of them, but this one was so well hidden behind shrubs and other boulders that Legolas would have missed the entrance to the tunnel, had Elrohir not pointed it out to him.

"Alright, you were right, Ro," Legolas said, moving closer to the tunnel entrance. In front of him, the ground he was standing on seemed to end in a cliff, and Legolas knew that down there, so many feet below, the houses of the elves of Imladris were, . The tunnel itself was more like a hole, much to Legolas's dismay. It opened up in a huge boulder, double the height of an elf, and snow laden bushes and some tiny trees hid the entrance.

While he was still looking at the hole, Halbarad stepped up to Legolas, puffing slightly. "This is it?" he asked doubtfully, and when the twins nodded, he shrugged his shoulders. "How are we to get the horses in there? Will they fit in?"

It was Elladan who answered, "The entrance seems small, I know, but the actual tunnel widens and the horses will have no problems. We only have to keep them calm." Elrohir cleared some of the bushes away and looked inside the tunnel. "Dan look! The torches we left here last year are still there. We can use them."

"Wonderful!" Elladan quipped, taking his horse by the reins and leading the animal forwards into the tunnel without a backwards glance. A few moments later, an orange light came from within the darkness, and Elladan's voice echoed back to them, "I would not call it cosy, but it will be faster than the way into the valley we usually use. Come on!"

With a mocking bow, Elrohir turned to Legolas. "My Prince, you should feel right at home, I am sure."

Giving his friend a glare, Legolas took his horse by the reins and followed Elladan into the cave, ignoring some of the confused faces of the rangers. He was more than sure that Elrohir would explain. And, when a few seconds later Elrohir's voice reached his ears, he groaned in annoyance. As soon as he was out of here, he would have a serious talk with that twin, and explain to him –again- in no uncertain terms, that he was "not" living in a cave.

Soon, the elves and rangers had led their more or less willing horses into the tunnel, which slowly sloped downwards and widened, just as Elladan had said. They walked mostly in silence, to not make the horses shy, and after an hour the walls of the tunnel widened even further and weak light seeped down to them. High above them, the walls had opened up, and when Legolas looked up, he could see the grey sky.

"How long is this tunnel?" one of the rangers asked, and Elrohir answered him, "Not much longer and we are out. Maybe half a mile."

Their hearts lighter, the group trudged on. The ground of the tunnel was as good as snow free, although here and there snowdrifts had built. The walls of the tunnel were white with snow, however, where the wind had driven it in.

Suddenly, one of the horses neighed agitatedly, stopping in its tracks. It threw its head back violently, almost snagging the reins out of the ranger's hand who lead it. "Easy girl, easy." the ranger soothed, but the animal did not calm. A few moments later, other horses began to dance nervously, too, and even the elven trained horses flicked their ears and began to swish with their tails.

"What is it?" Legolas asked, but before he got an answer, an ominous cracking sound reached his ears. Looking up, Legolas could not believe his eyes. It would not have needed Elladan's loud yell to tell him what was happening.

"Run! The walls are coming down!"

And in the next moment, stones, snow and branches were raining down on them all in a bone crushing rush.

Tbc…

* * *

**A/N:** As far as I have heard, a person can really bleed out of their eyes. It can be caused by antibiotics or by ruptures in the small veins that surround the eye. The blood then tries to find the easiest way out of the eye, and that is via the tears channel.

Do you like the new chapter? Or rather not? Let me know, please! Until next time, mellyn!


	49. 48 And Into The Fire

_Elvish translations:_

Mellon nin: my friend

--oOo--

_"And sing in joy!"_

--oOo--

Chapter 48: And into the fire

Heaps of snow and stones crashed downwards with an ear-splitting roar, and the frightened horses shook their big heads, wrenched the reins out of their riders' hands, and bolted. Their frightened neighs were drowned out by the tumult of the avalanche, but neither the rangers nor the elves were paying attention to the horses; their own lives were at risk here.

As soon as they had heard Elladan's frantic call, the rangers ran for shelter. There were holes and cracks in the tunnel wall, small overhangs that would probably protect them from being crushed to death. Elladan grabbed his brother's arm and together they hurried down the tunnel, into the direction they had come from, to avoid the onslaught. Being close to an overhang, Legolas pressed his slim body against the tunnel wall, scratching his face at the cold stone. And a few seconds later, his ears were filled with the rush of tumbling stones, branches and snow.

More and more snow rained down into the ravine, and soon the snow was waist high. Sharp rocks crashed down into the snow, and more than once Legolas felt a stone or branch hit his unprotected back.All in all the avalanche was over quickly, but for the men and elves it seemed to last hours.

And then…silence. After the great noise of the tumbling and crashing rocks, the silence after the avalanche was almost eerie. Here and there small rocks still rolled down the cliff walls, but the worst was over. Taking in a shaky breath, Legolas moved away from the stone wall, turned around and examined the damage.

On the other side of the tunnel, the rangers emerged from where they had found protection, and after a few moments, Elladan and Elrohir returned as well. All of them were snow splattered, and here and there one of the rangers was showing a bruise or scratch, but they had all come out of this relatively uninjured. Which could not be said of the tunnel. Where once had been a snow free way into the valley of Imladris, now was a man high wall of snow and debris. No, it was higher than man high, maybe as high as a troll. And, so much Legolas could see, the wall was instable. They would need a small miracle to cross over there safely.

"Well, it could have been worse," Elladan quipped, ripping Legolas out of his thoughts.

"Worse?" Legolas turned around, pointing at the wall of snow and rocks. "Then tell me, Elladan, how are we supposed to climb over this? And night will fall soon!"

Confused by Legolas's outburst, Elladan shrugged his shoulders. "It is not that high; we can climb it."

"Aye, we can climb it." Legolas pointed at himself and the twins. "But they can't." His finger pointed at the rangers. "And just in case you have not noticed, the horses carried the blankets, firewood, supplies…" Legolas trailed off, knowing that he had made his point.

"Oh," was all Elladan managed to say, before he took another long look at the wall. As soon as night fell, it would become icy cold in the ravine, and without the chance of a fire or even warm blankets, the possibility that the rangers would freeze, or at least get seriously ill, was high.

"We can at least try to climb it." Halbarad had come to stand beside the twins, brushing snow off of his head.

Giving the man a dubious look, Elrohir shook his head and sighed. "I think we should try the stability first. We are lighter than you are, and if the wall does not hold our weight, it will surely not hold yours."

"I will try!" Legolas said, already moving into the direction of the snow wall that was separating him from Aragorn. But, before he had taken three steps, a strong hand landed on his shoulder.

"No, I will try," Elladan said, and when he saw Legolas's questioning glance, he added, "Do not think that we have forgotten that broken shoulder blade of yours."

"It is healed," Legolas protested, but Elladan simply smiled at him and shook his head.

"Hm, maybe. And maybe not." Sighing, Elladan gave Legolas a gentle push with his shoulder. "Let me go first, Legolas."

"Why not." Folding his arms across his chest, Legolas conceded and watched the older twin walk over the snow towards the blockade. Testing the snow and rocks cautiously, Elladan began to climb. Here and there, heaps of snow and rock broke lose and fell down. When Elladan reached the half height of the wall, an ominous sound suddenly filled the air, and before they knew what had happened, Elladan tumbled down the wall. With a wet thud he landed in the snow, blinking stupidly.

"Dan!" Elrohir hastened to his brother's side and knelt down beside him. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

Spitting out snow and shaking his head like a wet dog, Elladan peered up at the blockade, "No, I am not hurt. Well, my pride, maybe."

Laughing in relief, Elrohir grabbed his brother under the arms and helped him to regain his feet. "I take it the blockade is unstable, then?"

Fishing clumps of snow out of his long hair, Elladan nodded. "Yes, not down here, but up there the snow is not as pressed as at the bottom and it shifts as soon as you touch it."

Sighing, Elrohir glanced over his shoulders at the rangers, who frowned worriedly. They knew that, if even a sure footed, light elf had difficulties climbing over this mass of snow and rock, that it would be impossible for them.

Sighing once more, Elrohir began to kick at the snow half-heartedly. "And now? Any ideas?"

"How far is the Last Homely House from here on foot?" Halbarad asked, looking up at he high walls of the tunnel.

"Maybe four, five hours," Elladan answered.

"So, that would mean that you could reach your home in five hours and be back with help in seven or eight." Scratching his chin, Halbarad shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't sound that bad."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked.

Taking a deep breath, Halbarad gestured at the blockade. "You have just expertly proven that we, I mean the humans in this group, cannot climb that blockade. But you can." Halbarad grinned softly. "So, away with you." He made a shushing motion with his hands.

The elves looked at each other for a moment. They knew that it was the most logical solution to their current predicament. But they all felt as if they would let the rangers down by simply leaving. In the end, it was Legolas who voiced his thoughts first.

"We cannot just leave you here. That would not be right."

To his surprise, most of the rangers tried to hide smiles behind their beards. Frowning, he gazed at Halbarad, who leaned forwards conspiratorially and whispered loud enough for them all to hear, "We won't tell him if you don't."

"Whom?" Legolas asked stupidly, confused when the twins snorted simultaneously.

Draping an arm around Legolas's shoulders, Elladan shook his head in mock pity. "Ro, what shall we do with him? Legolas, did you fall on your head?" Elladan reached up to brush Legolas's hair, but Legolas slapped his hand away.

"Whom? What are you talking about?"

"He must have fallen on that thick head of his!" Elrohir said, before he clasped Halbarad's shoulder and made his way over to the snow wall. Turning around, Elrohir grinned at Legolas, "Estel, of course. He will be mad when we tell him that we left his men here alone."

"Oh." Legolas made, before he blushed to the tips of his pointy ears. "I see." And before Halbarad knew what Legolas was doing, a fine elvish cloak was draped over his shoulders.

"Hey!" he protested, but Legolas simply grinned at him.

"Now, he will not be mad at me," Legolas quipped, and with a raised chin he stalked past the twins and began to carefully climb the blockade.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look, and a moment later two of the rangers wore green elvish cloaks, too.

"And not at us!" The sons of Elrond called simultaneously, then followed Legolas up the wall of snow and rocks.

"Good luck! And come back quickly!" Halbarad called after them, wishing them a safe journey and an even quicker return. Already he was freezing, and he knew that it would be some long and very cold hours till help would arrive.

The climb was exhausting, even for elves. Although the blockade was not that high, the stones and rocks it was made of shifted in the snow, and more than once the climbers slithered down a few feet, before they found their grip again and continued to climb. Soon, Legolas felt his almost mended shoulder protest his attempts to climb, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from gasping at the pain that sometimes shot through the bone.

Slowly, the three elves made their way up the blockade. Elladan was the first to vanish over the top, and his brother followed him soon. Legolas was the last to reach the top, and there he stopped for a moment, catching his breath. Looking down at the ravine, he could see that the rangers had begun to collect the stray branches that lay here and there, obviously trying to light a fire. He hoped they would be able to ignite it, for it would keep them warm during the night.

One last time he looked back, and when he saw that Halbarad waved at him, he waved back once, then turned and made his way slowly down on the other side. The descend went quicker, seeing that Legolas could almost slide down on top of the snow. Once or twice he loosened a small avalanche lose, but all in all his climb down went well.

Soon, he jumped the last feet, landing catlike on the snow, and stepped up to the twins. Tucking strands of his long, blond hair behind his ears, Legolas looked up at the sky. "It will be dark soon. We should hurry."

Nodding, Elrohir pointed at the now snowy ground. "Look! Hoof prints. I think the horses made it out of the collapse of the walls." Real gratitude shone in his eyes, and Elladan patted his brother's shoulder, winking. They all knew how much the younger twin cared for horses; his father had not named him wrongly.

"Finally, good news," Elladan quipped, turning into the direction of his home. "If we are lucky, the horses find their way home and someone will send help even before we reach home."

Feeling his spirits rise, Legolas grinned at the twins, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. "The last one at your home is a smelly orc!" And with that he tore down the tunnel, his blond hair waving behind him.

Shaking his head, Elrohir looked at his brother. "You hear that, Dan?"

"He is mocking us, that Princeling," Elladan said grimly, but there was laughter in his eyes.

"Hm, well," Elrohir said, tilting his head to the side and secretly shifting his weight on his left leg. "I guess I see you at home…smelly orc." And with that Elrohir sprinted after his friend, leaving a 'tsking' Elladan behind.

"Elflings," Elladan murmured, but a second later he ran after his brother and friend as fast as he could. He would definitely not be the smelly orc.

--oOo--

His chin resting in his hand, his elbow on his knee and his foot on the seat of the chair he was sitting on, Aragorn gazed out into the gathering gloom. His brothers and friends had not returned yet, and slowly but surely he was beginning to worry. They should have been home long ago, even with the snow storm. Night was falling quickly so late in the year, and Aragorn began to fear that something had happened to the hunting party that prevented them from coming home.

Shifting his position slightly so that his arms would not fall asleep, Aragorn sighed miserably. Not only had his brothers and friends not yet returned, had he been forced to lie in bed all day with his eyes closed to quicken the healing process, but also had the Tulcoindo proven to be a terrible companion, too.

For half the afternoon he had hung with his head over a basin, trying not to retch his lungs out. His father had warned him that the Tulcoindo could have uncomfortable side effects, but had it to be the nausea? Why not something else, like…like…like sleepiness? That would have been great, Aragorn mused sourly, for then he would have slept through the sickness as well as his mounting worry.

While his father and Gandalf had tried to reassure him that surely the hunting party would arrive safe and sound, he had seen the small flicker of uncertainty in his father's eyes, and that was enough for him to get nervous, too. Where were they? And why had they not returned yet? And that was why he had not told his father of the side effects of the Tulcoindo. If his father was already worrying about his brothers and friends, then additional worry about him would surely not do any good.

Sighing in frustration and grimacing a second later when his stomach rolled uncomfortably, Aragorn stared out of his window. Suddenly, a quickly moving lantern in the courtyard caught his eye, and he sat up a bit to see better. Yes, someone was quickly making his way over the courtyard, but why Aragorn could not tell. Feeling that something had happened, he quickly got to his feet and turned to the door.

In the next second, Aragorn pressed his hand on his stomach and the other over his mouth. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. When the spell of nausea had passed, he glared at his stomach.

"You are completely empty," he ground out. "There is absolutely no reason for you to be upset. Understood?" And when his stomach did not churn at that, Aragorn nodded in satisfaction. "That is settled then."

But, instead of hastening to the courtyard, Aragorn walked slowly and steadily. Maybe his stomach had not openly disagreed with him on the terms of the truce, but that did not mean that he would take the risk. On the way down the stairs he met Gandalf, who seemed to have been in the progress of washing his hair when he had sensed that something was going on. His grey hair was wet, and itsy bitsy pieces of foam could be seen here and there.

Lifting an eyebrow, Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but the wizard narrowed his eyes at him in a very creepy way. Swallowing the nice question that had been on the tip of his tongue, Aragorn simply gestured at the front doors. "After you, Mithrandir."

Mumbling something into his beard, Gandalf exited the hall and made his way outside. Grabbing a cloak from the hook beside the doors, Aragorn followed him quickly. By now he could hear people talking outside, and judging by the tone of the voices, something had indeed happened.

Whatever it was that Aragorn had anticipated, it was not what finally met his eyes. There, in the snowy courtyard stood the horses of his brothers and friends; sweaty, frightened and riderless. Their sides were heaving and white foam coated their flanks. It was clear to everyone laying eyes on them that they had run very hard for a very long time.

Making his way down the stairs and nearly slipping on the snowy steps, Aragorn made his way over to his father and Gandalf next to Elladan's horse. They were trying to further calm the steed, which was flicking its ears nervously, dancing on the spot.

"Ada?" Aragorn asked, eyeing the horse with unease settling in his stomach.

"Estel!" His father turned around to face him, his eyes widening. "You should be in bed. It is too cold out here."

Totally ignoring the reprimand, Aragorn took another look around the courtyard. Numerous elves had come to help care for the animals.

"No sign of them? Nothing?" Aragorn stepped up to his brother's horse, and placed his hand on its long neck.

"No, Estel, no sign. The horses returned on their own," Gandalf answered him, watching the horse carefully for any signs of injuries.

While stroking the long neck, Aragorn took a look at the bags that were attached to the saddle. "Does not look as if Elladan fell, the bags are still in place and neatly folded."

From the moment Aragorn had touched the horse, the animal had calmed down. Neighing softly, it lowered its big heard, and when Aragorn began to scratch it behind its ears, it blew out a big cloud of misty air and closed its eyes.

"If you could just tell us what happened, my friend," Aragorn murmured, giving the horse one last pat on the neck before a stable hand came over and led the horse to the stables.

"Maybe it just has." Elrond had moved away a few feet from them, staring at the ground.

"Ada?" Stepping up beside his father and sinking up to his ankles into the snow, Aragorn followed his father's look. There, in the deep snow, the tracks of the horses were clearly visible. Opening his mouth, Aragorn was just about to say something, but his father beat him to it.

"No, Estel."

"But…"

"No, and that is my last word." Elrond gave his youngest a stern glare. "I did not allow you to go outside, and I will definitely not allow you to go looking for your brothers and friends. And that is my last word." He emphasised his words by the famous lifted eyebrow, and Aragorn knew that he would not be able to convince his father to let him go.

"As you wish, Ada." Tightening the cloak around his shoulders, Aragorn gazed into the direction the horses had come from. "Will you send Glorfindel?"

"Aye, that seems to me a wise choice." His father looked over his shoulder. "And what about you, Mithrandir?"

"I will accompany him, Elrond. You never know what those troublesome three could have run into. And with young Halbarad with them, disaster is ensured." And although Gandalf tried to make light of the fact that the horses had returned riderless, they all knew that the wizard was as worried as they were.

Elrond placed an arm around Aragorn's shoulder and led him back to the house. "Let's get you inside and warm you up, my son." With Gandalf at their side, father and son made their way back to the double entrance doors.

Shivering slightly because of the cold, Aragorn gazed back over his shoulder where the stable hands were leading the horses towards the stable, promising dry hay and food.

"Do you think something has happened to them? I mean, do you think they are hurt?"

Sighing, Elrond shook his head. "I don't know, Estel." And after a moment, Elrond added questioningly, "What does your heart tell you?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Gandalf listened attentively, but he said nothing. After a moment of contemplation, Aragorn smiled weakly. "They are well. And on their way home." He did not know why he knew that, but suddenly he was certain that neither his brothers nor his friends were hurt.

Smacking his lips in that mysterious way of his, Gandalf entered the entrance hall. "The heart is wise, sometimes wiser than the mind, young Estel. When in doubt, follow it."

Shrugging out of the cloak with his father's help, Aragorn rubbed his cold hands together. "I thought you should follow your nose when in doubt."

"Well, that too," Gandalf said, then vanished quickly down the hallway to prepare to leave as soon as possible.

Elrond shook his head gently at Gandalf's words, before he turned back towards Aragorn. "I will inform Glorfindel and make sure that everything is prepared." When Elrond saw the uneasy flicker in Aragorn's eyes, he added, "Why don't you go to your room and change into something warm? I will send some food up."

At the mention of food, Aragorn's stomach rumbled uncomfortably, but Aragorn nodded. "Aye, that is a good idea." He watched his father turn and leave before he, too, slowly climbed the stairs to his room.

He knew that his father would first inform Glorfindel of his mission before he would straight away head to his healing wing to prepare everything that could be needed. Bandages, herbs, needles, potions…

Aragorn closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening on the railing of the stairs. Why did things have to turn for the worse every time when it started to look brighter? And although he knew that it was a foolish thought, for a moment Aragorn could not help but wonder whether his brothers and friends were in any way paying the price for his recovery.

The next few hours were complete torture for Aragorn. Helplessly he watched the search party leave the courtyard, torches and lights in hands, to find the missing hunting party. Night had settled over the valley, and not even the stars were shining down to comfort him. How he wished to ride out now, to help find them and bring them back. But, the poison that was still in his veins and the nausea that had not left him yet prevented him from such reckless actions.

When the search party had left, Elrond was still busy setting up the healing wing, and although Aragorn had asked whether he could help, his father had negated and asked him to rest in his room. Rest. That was something that Aragorn would have loved to do, for he felt tired, but he could not.

Follow his heart…that was easier said than done. Yes, he felt that they were all right, but how could he be sure? What if his heart was lying to him and it was nothing more than wishful thinking? What if his brothers, Legolas or even Halbarad were hurt? What if something terrible had happened?

And if that was not bad enough, Aragorn knew that his little trip down into the cold courtyard had not been good for his health. His stomach had not thanked him that action, anyway. As soon as he entered his room, he felt the by now common sensation of butterflies in his stomach, before cold sweat broke out on his whole body. And the next moment, he was hugging the basin in the antechamber, trying not to sink through is knees while heaving. When it was over and he sat on his bed, shivering slightly, Aragorn shook his head miserably. Why did things always have to be so terribly…terrible?

Sighing in frustration, Aragorn closed his eyes, mumbling, "And you, stomach, just keep quiet for a while, will you?…Please?"

--oOo--

"Legolas wait!" Elladan called, having stopped in his tracks. The forest around them was dark and quiet, the soft steps of the three elves the only sounds that pierced the silence.

Coming to a halt, Legolas turned and looked at the twin. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and the running he had done while his long blond hair hung in slight disarray. "What is it? Afraid to be the smelly orc?" With every step that Legolas had taken into the direction of the Last Homely House, his heart had felt lighter. Soon, they would reach their destination, and then they would not only send help to the rangers, but also finally get to know how Aragorn fared.

"No, Legolas," Elladan said, tilting his head to the side. "Listen."

Elrohir and Legolas exchanged a look, before they, too, began to listen intently. It took them a few heartbeats, but then they both smiled.

"Horses. Riders are coming our way," Legolas said, peering through the darkness into the direction the sounds came from.

"And not any riders." Stepping up beside Legolas, Elrohir flashed a smile. "Glorfindel is coming."

Confusion clearly written on his face, Legolas lifted an eyebrow. "And pray tell me, how can you know that?"

Slapping Legolas's shoulder, Elladan grinned at him, before he resumed his running. "Just listen, Legolas!"

Legolas frowned. Sometimes the twins were speaking in riddles. But, he obediently listened to the sound of the approaching riders. And then, suddenly, he knew why the twins were so sure that Glorfindel was coming for them. Shaking his head, Legolas took off after the twins; he had no intention of being the smelly orc, after all.

Running like the wind, the three elves sped through the forest, always on the lookout for any sign of the riders. They knew that the horses would go slowly because of the snow and the darkness, but they were sure that they were close. And so, it was not really surprising to them that they suddenly saw orange lights between the trees, moving slowly into their direction.

They waved their arms and jumped up and down, calling out to the riders. The lights stopped for a moment, then moved again, coming now straight at them. In but a few moments, Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas looked up into Glorfindel's face.

"Well met, my Lord," Elladan greeted, grinning and brushing the tiny bells on Asfaloth's bridle. "I take it you found our horses, then?"

Lifting an eyebrow in an almost perfect imitation of Elrond, Glorfindel answered dryly, "I take it you have a good explanation for losing your horses?"

"We have, indeed," Elrohir said, gesturing into the direction they had come from. "We took the Thunder Pass, but the walls came down on us and blocked the tunnel. The frost and the snow must have cracked the stones. The rangers are trapped in there, for they couldn't get out. But they are all uninjured."

"The Thunder Pass?" Glorfindel asked, disbelief clearly written on his face. "That pass is dangerous, that is the reason it has not been used in decades."

The twins opened their mouths' to counter that, but Glorfindel raised his hand to stall them. "No, I really do not want to know." Turning he called over his shoulder at three other elves, who rode up to him. "Dan, Ro, Legolas, you will take their horses and ride back. They will share horses with the rest of us, who will make sure the rangers are all right. Send back help as soon as you arrive." Looking to his side, Glorfindel asked, "And you, Mithrandir? Do you ride back or with me?"

Only now did the twins and Legolas notice that Gandalf had ridden with the search party; his grey beard and hair had been hidden under the hood of his cloak.

"I will accompany the three young ones home, I think." And with a twinkle in his eyes he added, "To make sure that they take no further shortcuts."

Mounting the horses, the twins, Legolas and Gandalf turned towards the Last Homely House in silence. They rode for some minutes, each lost in his thoughts, and in the case of the elves, plucking up their courage. In the end, it was Legolas who could wait no longer.

"Mithrandir, what about Estel? How does he fare?" So nervous was he to hear the answer that his voice was an octave higher than usual.

Peering up from under his bushy eyebrows, Gandalf took his time answering. "Well, as we had feared, the poison attacked again. And Estel, was upset, you could say so, I think." For a moment, Gandalf had the livid picture of Aragorn slamming his hand into the mirror playing in front of his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the shocked and fearful faces of the three elves.

Gandalf quickly reassured them, "He is fine now, trust me. Just terribly bored. And worried." Lifting a warning finger, Gandalf admonished them, "Taking the Thunder Pass! Has your father never told you why this pass in not used since hundreds of years?"

The twins, knowing perfectly well that the pass was dangerous, had at least the grace to blush. Tsking at the twins, Gandalf shook his head, mumbling, "Elflings."

Legolas narrowed his eyes on the twins, and when Gandalf was a little ahead of them, he leaned over, hissing, "Thunder Pass!? I knew it was a bad idea to take that shortcut of yours."

"So, did you?" Elrohir looked at him smugly. "Who is the fool? The one who does something foolish or the one who follows him?"

"You…" Legolas began, but Gandalf's voice interrupted him.

"Come now, young ones. The last at the house is a stinking troll!"

--oOo--

That just did it! Glaring at his stomach, Aragorn wished it to the bottom of a very, very deep chasm. For the last half hour he had done nothing but feel sick. Really sick. Although he had not eaten anything in hours neither had he drunken anything. He had eaten so little the last days, and the time before that, that he had lost weight. The fact that his stomach was still complaining was beginning to worry him, but what could he do?

If he told his father, who was already hard pressed to not pace in the entrance hall because there had been no word yet from the search party, then he would surely not look forward to hearing that the Tulcoindo was affecting him that badly. And really, Aragorn thought, feeling sick is better than feeling sick _and_ having to throw up. As long as he fasted, he should be fine. Well, as fine as he could be being sick.

Giving his rumbling stomach another dark glare, Aragorn was just closing his eyes and trying to rest a bit more, when shouts from the courtyard made him consider. As quickly as he was able, he exited his room, down the hallway, the stairs and into the entry hall. Obviously he had not been very fast, for when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the double doors to the house opened, and his brothers and Legolas entered, followed by Gandalf and his father, who must have greeted the four outside.

Grinning, Legolas looked smugly at the twins. "Well well, I am not the smelly orc." And after a pause he added, "Or the stinking troll."

"Only because you cheated," Elladan said, brushing snow from his dark hair.

"I did not cheat, Elladan. That was a shortcut," Legolas responded, still smiling. The way he had taken to reach the house first was maybe a bit unusual, but really, at least he was not the last to reach the house.

"Pah! Wait till I tell Estel that you jumped with your horse across the river instead of using the bridge," Elladan threatened mockingly.

"Oh, Dan, you are only upset because you did not think of it first." Nudging his brother with his shoulder, Elrohir gestured over his shoulder, whispering, "What does it matter? Mithrandir was last, anyway."

This brought first stares, then smiles to their ageless faces. Figuring that the three elves would probably not notice that he was there until he did something, Aragorn cleared his throat.

"Legolas, what shall I do with you? Jumping over rivers?"

"Estel!" Legolas called, his eyes going wide in surprise.

The next moment, Aragorn found himself engulfed by his brothers and friend, who all talked simultaneously, slapping his shoulder and hugging him. Obviously they were more than happy to see him up and about. When their excitement calmed down enough for Aragorn to breathe freely without getting hair into his mouth, he said,

"What happened to you? And where are my kinsmen?" Although he tried not to show it, his voice betrayed his worry.

"They are fine and they should be here soon, mellon nin." Placing an arm around Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas led him up the stairs, the twins on their heels. "What say you, we tell you what happened to us, and you tell us what happened here while we were away?"

Aragorn really tried not to show his unease at this request, but the slight tightening of Legolas's hand on his shoulder told him that he had failed. Nodding, he answered, "All right, but you tell me first."

"Agreed."

For the next hour, the twins and Legolas entertained Aragorn with the story of their hunt, the snow storm and the subsequent avalanche while Aragorn sat on his bed, snuggled into a blanket, trying to ignore his nausea. When it was his turn to relay the events of the last few days, he kept it as short as possible and long enough to satisfy the elves' curiosity.

As he had suspected, his brothers and friend found the thought that his eyes had bled horrible, but when he came to the end and told them that his father and Mithrandir were, well if not sure then at least almost sure that the Tulcoindo had worked, an ominous silence hung over the room.

It was Elrohir who broke the silence first. "So, then it is over?"

Aragorn shrugged. "We will have to wait and see, but…it looks like it."

Slowly, a grin began to spread over all their faces, and a moment later, Elladan and Elrohir were dancing around the room, laughing and cheering. Shaking his head, Aragorn smiled at their antics, but when his look fell on Legolas, it dimmed a bit. While Legolas was smiling too, there was something in his look that made Aragorn frown,

"What is it, Legolas? What worries you?" he asked softly, so as not to disturb the twins in their happiness.

"I am more than glad that this might be finally over, Estel." Legolas's smile brightened for a moment, before he fixed his eyes intently on his friend. "But tell me and tell me honestly, how are you? What is wrong with you, Estel? And don't tell me you are fine. I can see it in your eyes that you are not."

For a moment, Aragorn said nothing, but then he shrugged his shoulders again. "I am tired, Legolas, and maybe I feel a tiny bit uneasy from the Tulcoindo."

"The side effects your father was talking about?"

Nodding his head, Aragorn sighed. "I guess it could have been worse." And silently he added 'Or better'. But there really was no need to tell Legolas that he felt as if he had been turned inside out, was there?

Smiling at Legolas, Aragorn gave him a pat on the knee. "Come, Legolas, be happy!" And with a pout that could have matched a four year old, he added, "For me, pleeease."

Legolas could not help it, he laughed out loud, shoving Aragorn to the side. Aragorn, in his turn, shoved Legolas back with his shoulder, but when his friend flinched minutely, Aragorn became immediately worried.

"Legolas, what is wrong?"

Rubbing his injured shoulder, Legolas shook his head. "Nothing, Estel, really." This earned him the raised eyebrow that all the Peredhil were so famous for, and Legolas grimaced, knowing what Aragorn would say.

"Legolas, that is not nothing. Did you hurt your shoulder while climbing over that wall? I am sure the shoulder blade had not been healed fully. Maybe Ada should have a look at it."

And before Legolas could protest, Aragorn turned to his brothers. "How could you let him climb that wall with his injured shoulder?"

Stopping in mid dance, the twins gaped at him. "Huh?"

Sighing, Aragorn shook his head, while he grabbed Legolas's uninjured arm and stood from the bed. "Elflings."

--oOo--

It was late afternoon the next day before the search party returned, bringing the rangers with them. It had been difficult to get the men over the wall, for it was so unstable that the elves first had to make sure that it would not collapse. But, they had provided the caught rangers with dry wood, blankets and food, so that they had not suffered from the cold weather.

The reunion with Aragorn had been a loud and happy one, and when Aragorn had actually told them that the worst was probably over, the otherwise so calm and reserved rangers had clapped him on the shoulders and yelled in joy. And Elrond, he had taken the happiness in his house as a reason to celebrate. Officially.

The next day, the cooks had baked and cooked, the house had been cleaned and the Hall of Fire decorated. In the evening, the elves and rangers feasted on delicious food, drinking strong wine and excellent ale. There was laughter and music, songs and poetry, and it was such a happy night that none of them noticed that maybe not everything was as it should be.

For Aragorn still felt sick; he had eaten as good as nothing, shoving his food around on his plate until it was cold, and the strong wine he had drunken had reached his head faster than he was used to. So, it was no wonder that, by midnight, he was positively drunk, falling asleep on one of the plush benches in front of the fire. While Legolas shoved a cushion under his head, Halbarad lifted his feet on the bench, and the twins draped a blanket over him. After that, the noise in the hall died down somewhat, but not the general happiness.

Standing by the window, Elrond looked at his sleeping son, the first time in weeks feeling…normal. A smile stole on his face, and when the twins' laugher reached his ears, he sent a prayer to the Valar and thanked them for this gift. Finally, there was an actual chance that everything turned for the better.

Tbc…

Well, I thought it was time to end on a happier note, but don't worry, one or two chapters are still to come. The question is only when…hihi. I'll do my very best to get them out as soon as possible. After all, I am quite sure you all want to know whether the Tulcoindo really worked, the nausea will pass, other side effects will show up, Legolas's shoulder will heal, the twins learn to….no, that is another story. –g–


	50. 49 Where Do We Go From Here?

**Beta: Chris.**

**A/N: Chris, I want to say thank you! THANK YOU so much. I would never have finished this story without your support and continuing ideas and great comments. THANK YOU:o)**

**Furthermore, I want to thank the wonderful reviewers. Your support was overwhelming. Thanks!**

_Elvish translations:_

Mellon nin: my friend

* * *

--oOo--

"_Where do we go, from here?_

_The battle's done and we kind of won so we sound our victory cheer._

_Tell me, were do we go, from here?"_

_(Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Once more with feeling)_

--oOo--

* * *

Chapter 49: Where do we go from here?

The days passed slowly. Every day Aragorn drank the Tulcoindo, and every day he lost more weight. More often than not he threw up the food he ate, and it was not long after the feast that he decided to tell his father and Gandalf. Or rather, Legolas decided that it was time for the truth, and convinced Aragorn to tell him, and then Lord Elrond.

Gandalf and Elrond had tried to change the composition of the Tulcoindo, but nothing helped. They even tried to give it to Aragorn in smaller dosages, but as soon as he had taken that, another attack of the original poison shook his body, and they had to accept that they could not stop now.

Aragorn struggled every day with the effects of the Tulcoindo, and maybe even more with his desire to not show his discomfort too much. But when Winter Solstice stood before, Aragorn had practically given up eating at all. Now and then Legolas would manage to get him to eat some broth, but strong teas and wine were the only things that Aragorn ate these days to sustain himself.

While Aragorn grew accustomed to the constant sickness and the lack of food, his brothers and Legolas could not. They had given up on trying to force him to eat, but every time they supported Aragorn after he had taken the Tulcoindo or during a spell of dizziness, which came often these days, their eyes would meet, and they would vow silently that it had to end. The only thing was, they did not know how.

None of them knew how long Aragorn would have to take the Tulcoindo, for the winter seemed harsher than usual and no one knew when spring would come wand with it the lilies of the valley. The only thing they knew with certainty was that it could not go on like this for very much longer.

The rangers, hurting to see Aragorn that way, had taken to go hunting more and more often, staying away from the Last Homely House for days. Never did Aragorn say a thing, but his brothers and Legolas knew that it hurt him as much as his kinsmen.

The night of the Winter Solstice, the whole valley was blinking and sparkling in golden light. Hundreds and hundreds of candles had been lit, and tiny boats on the rivers, decorated with candles, spread the festive atmosphere through the valley as well. But most wondrous was the House of Elrond looking, for not only lights adorned it, but every railing was decorated with evergreen, the windows showed intricate patterns made of colours, and everything had been polished and cleaned.

Silver plates and goblets stood on the numerous tables, bowls filled with hot water and dried rosebuds stood on side tables, and fine silk and linen was draped over practically everything. The candles had been trimmed to the same height and arranged in a way that they illuminated every single room. The air was filled with the richest smells, and when the first guests arrived, music was played and sweet songs sung.

Two storeys above the festivities, Legolas paced in Aragorn's room, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I understand your motives, Estel, but still…"

Aragorn sighed, and tightened the thick shirt around his shoulders. "I just don't feel like celebrating tonight, Legolas."

"Do you think I do?" Stopping in his pacing, Legolas looked down on Aragorn, who sat in front of the fire, clothed in his finest. Taking a seat opposite his friend, Legolas looked into his eyes.

"I know that you don't feel like celebrating, but this feast is important. You know what it means for your family."

Aragorn nodded. He knew very well that this feast meant a lot for his father and brothers, seeing that it was the last feast they had celebrated with their mother before she had sailed. And on the other hand, none of them had really thought that Aragorn would live to see it. Letting his head hang, Aragorn nodded once more. "I know, Legolas, I know. Still…" His voice got a bit lower, and Legolas leaned closer to understand him better.

"What shall I do there, Legolas? Stare at my empty plate and sip at a half full cup of wine for the whole evening, while I try not to throw up in front of everybody, shivering because I feel cold and tired? What would Dan and Ro and Ada say then? No, I think I should stay here, then they can celebrate without keeping an eye on me all the time."

"Estel…" Reaching out, Legolas took one of Aragorn's cold hands in his own. "They want you to be there, you know that."

A defeated "I know" was the only answer Legolas got, so he squeezed Aragorn's hand a bit before he continued, "Just for an hour or two. Come now, Estel, after that I promise you not to argue when you want to leave."

"Promise?" Aragorn asked, looking up at Legolas, and in that moment Legolas knew that he had won. Although, he was not really sure if he wanted to win, given the fact that Aragorn looked as if he wanted to topple over any second.

"I promise, mellon nin." Getting to his feet, Legolas pulled Aragorn up with him. "Now, let me see what I can do to make your hair at least look like hair instead of…hairy-furry-something."

When his words elicited a small smile from Aragorn, Legolas pushed him down on the low stool in front of the mirror , before he looked around searchingly. "Estel, where is your brush?"

Snorting, Aragorn shook his head. "My what?"

Sighing, Legolas looked at the ceiling, muttering, "This is going to be a loooong night for both of us, Estel."

--oOo--

Midnight came and went, and still Aragorn was attending the festivities. After the first shock of the noise and the smell of food had passed, he actually felt himself enjoy the music and the songs, the stories and the laughter. Friendly faces everywhere and everyone patted his shoulders, asking how he was, and after telling for the fiftieth time that he was relatively well, Aragorn began to believe it himself. In a daring moment he even tried one of the small pastries the cooks had made, and although his stomach complained, he kept the food down. After a few sips of the strong elvish wine, Aragorn switched to tea, which kept him warm and awake.

Smiling, he sat listening to the twins telling one of their stories to the crowd, and he laughed at the right times and even louder when the twins seemed to 'forget' to tell the one or other detail. Well, he even convinced Legolas to sing a song from his homeland, clapping with the rest of the crowd when a rather red cheeked Legolas bowed and left the centre of attention.

Still, although Aragorn felt better than he had in a long time, something nudged at the back of his mind, and when an ancient lay was started for the fifth time, he took his tea and stole himself out onto a dark balcony, overlooking the valley.

It was a cloudless night and the stars shown twinkled from above. The music and the song could still be heard out here, but it was more like the rushing of a river, and it calmed Aragorn. Leaning his arms on the balustrade, he let his gaze travel over the familiar houses and trees, the rivers and streams, and he knew that once the snow melted and spring entered the lands, flowers would grew at the banks and in the meadows, attracting butterflies and birds. A fine mist would lie over the fields in the morning, but once the sun broke through, the beauty of the valley would be unravelled for all with eyes to see.

A heartfelt sigh escaped him, and Aragorn jumped in surprise when someone suddenly spoke from behind him, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Whirling around, Aragorn watched as Gandalf stepped out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind him, shutting out the music.

"Aye, it is," Aragorn finally said, turning around again and looking out over the valley. Gandalf stepped up to him, pulling out his pipe.

"Are you not cold, Aragorn?"

"Not at the moment," Aragorn answered, smiling when he smelled the rich weed Gandalf was smoking. He had not used his pipe for weeks, and he longed to smoke again. As if he was able to read his thoughts, Gandalf patted his long grey robe. "I have a spare one, you know."

Smiling ruefully, Aragorn placed a hand on his stomach and shook his head. "I don't think that would be such a good idea, Gandalf."

"Oh, I see." Puffing, Gandalf let his eyes roam over the dark valley for a few moments, before he blew out a huge cloud of smoke. "Imladris is beautiful at night. So silent and peaceful. I know only one other place where it is like this."

Intrigued, Aragorn could not help but ask, "And where is that?"

"The Shire of course, Aragorn. I am sure your travels have brought you there?"

"Aye, I have been to The Shire. But, I have actually never entered its borders." For a moment, a small frown appeared on Aragorn's brow, but it vanished quickly and he added with a shrug, "It is almost as if something hinders me from entering, pulls me back every time I want to pass through the Hedge. Halbarad says I'm either crazy or scared of Hobbits."

Gandalf said nothing for a time, puffing his pipe in silence, before he answered, "Maybe it is not yet your time to learn of the secrets that are hidden there., but I am sure one day your path will lead you there."

Smiling, Aragorn shook his head. "Who can say where my way will lead me. West or East, or maybe even to the far South. A ranger goes where he is needed."

"True." Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Gandalf lifted a bushy eyebrow at Aragorn. "And where does the heir of Isildur go?"

Turning sharply, Aragorn frowned. "What do you mean. Mithrandir?"

Suddenly, all the playfulness was gone from the wizard's face and his eyes sharpened, but his voice stayed gentle. "You have chosen a dangerous path of no return in the last weeks. Are you sure you can take up your life where you left it once this is all over?"

Stunned, Aragorn said nothing, until he finally averted his gaze and looked out over the valley and into the darkness beyond. And it seemed that Gandalf had not anticipated an answer, for he put out his pipe, squeezed Aragorn's shoulder, and then went back to the celebration. It was many hours later until Legolas found Aragorn on the balcony, cold and dead tired, but with a strange spark in his eyes that Legolas could not explain. Bringing Aragorn to his room, and then helping him to bed, Legolas exchanged barely a word with his friend. The only thing that made Legolas seek his own chambers and not go to speak with Lord Elrond, was the peaceful look on Aragorn's face when he fell asleep.

The next morning…noon, Legolas climbed down the stairs, scratching his chin. Yawning wildly, he opened the door to the kitchen, only to stop mid step at the sight that presented itself. Blinking, Legolas rubbed his eyes with both hands, then looked once more.

There, in front of the stove stood Aragorn, kneading dough. Flour was staining his apron and hands, and some of it was littering the ground. Milk and eggs stood on the side of the kitchen board, and the smell of fresh baked bread hung in the air.

Clearing his throat, Legolas entered. "Estel?"

Looking at Legolas over his shoulder, Aragorn grinned and nodded at the small kitchen table, where the staff used to eat. "Sit down, Legolas, I'm almost finished here."

Lifting an eyebrow in confusion, Legolas sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. Aragorn kneaded a few moments longer before he formed a few rolls from the dough, placed them into the stone hearth and closed the iron door with a piece of cloth. Cleaning his hands on his apron, he took up a cloth-closed basket, a bowl of butter and sat down across from Legolas.

Lifting the cloth, he showed some fresh cinnamon rolls to Legolas. "Here, take one. They only taste good when they are warm."

Taking one of the rolls, Legolas gazed questioningly at Aragorn, but when he said nothing, he took a tentative bite from the roll. "Hm, they are good," Legolas said, taking a bigger bite and reaching for the butter. "Why did you make them, do you not feel ill smelling them?"

Shrugging, Aragorn poured himself a cup of tea. "Yes, the smell makes me feel nauseous, but I always liked baking, since I was a small child, actually. So I thought, why not make some rolls for all of you?"

Swallowing, Legolas leaned forwards. "Estel, are you well?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Legolas…." Aragorn shoved his friend playfully. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Legolas eyed him closely for a moment, and Aragorn could not help but drop some of his happy attitude and sigh deeply.

"Yes, Legolas, I'm sure. I…thought about all thathappened in the last few weeks, and I came to the conclusion that…that although it is not yet over, it could be worse. And…and I must look to the future now and…" Aragorn lowered his gaze. "And I owe you an apology, Legolas."

The cinnamon roll forgotten, Legolas did not know what to say. "Estel, we talked about this and…you already apologized."

"But not the way I should have done." Looking up, Aragorn's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I blamed you for saving my life, Legolas. For doing the right thing. I mean, you stayed with me all the time, although you had no obligation to do so. You did what I begged you to do, although you knew it was wrong. And then, then I blamed you for the things I did. For my fears and my insecurity. For…for being so incredibly stupid and weak and…" Tears rolled down his cheeks, and Legolas could not take it any longer. Getting up from his chair, he went and wrapped his arms around his friend.

"Shh, Estel. Speak no more."

"But…"

"No." Legolas shook his head. "We already talked about this and I have forgiven you." Wiping a hand across his face, Aragorn asked, "Really?"

"Yes," Legolas said, before he released his friend, kneeling beside the chair. "And do you forgive me for not stopping you from doing that?"

"Legolas…" Stunned, Aragorn shook his head. "That was my decision and you could have done nothing to stop me."

"I could have tried harder…" Legolas said, but Aragorn shook his head strongly.

"No. I said this before and I say it again. Had you stopped me, I would have tried another time. And maybe it would have ended with me then, and then, then I would never have been saved."

Biting his lip, Legolas tilted his head to the side. "And what now, Estel? Where do we go from here?"

Breathing in deeply, Aragorn smiled gently. "We will go wherever our feet carry us, one step at a time."

--oOo--

In the weeks following the celebrations, the air slowly became warmer, the snow melted, and after another week of fierce hail and storm, the winter finally left the valley. But although the worst seemed to be over, they all knew that the ground was still frozen, and the time for the birth of new flowers had not yet come, and would not for at least three more weeks. Three weeks, that Aragorn maybe did not have.

The Tulcoindo he drank constantly hindered him from eating, and the lack of food had thinned his body so much that his clothing had to be changed to fit again. But what was maybe even worse was the fact that the Tulcoindo was affecting his empty stomach. Every time Aragorn had to take the brew, he endured hours of severe stomach pain and cramps, and Elrond was worried that the strong Tulcoindo would injured the sensitive sides of his stomach and cause internal bleedings.

Only yesterday, Legolas had managed to make Aragorn eat some broth, but as usual the food had not stayed down. To all their horror, Aragorn had spit out a bit of blood as well. Elrond could wait no longer; something had to be done. Now.

"Elrond, are you certain that you want to do that?" Gandalf asked, crossing his arms before his chest.

It was dim in the healing room, and Gandalf could not completely make out Elrond's face, but he could still see the determination in his eyes. Elrond set down the pestle and reached for a cup of water while he answered, "I cannot wait any longer, Mithrandir. The Tulcoindo will kill him."

"But if we stop giving it to him he will die from the poison. You know that."

His hands stilling, Elrond turned and looked the wizard into the eyes, "Spring is on its way, the sun gets stronger every day. Soon the ground will melt and the flowers will begin to grow. And then we will find lilies of the valley and be able to make the real antidote. Maybe three weeks, two if we are lucky." Elrond's eyes narrowed and his voice turned almost pleading, "But if Estel continues to drink the Tulcoindo, it will eat through the walls of his stomach and he will bleed to death before we can do anything. Two weeks, Mithrandir. Two attacks of the original poison."

For a moment, Gandalf said nothing, but then he stroked his long beard and sighed deeply, " We do not know what these next attacks could be, Elrond. They could be worse than anything we have seen so far. Are you willing to risk that?"

Shaking his head, Elrond answered, "It is not my decision to make, old friend. It never was." After a pause, he added, "I've talked with Estel and he is willing to try."

"So it is decided then and so it will be." Gandalf said softly, then turned and left the room without another word.

--oOo--

"How do you feel Estel?" Legolas asked, sitting on the window sill in Aragorn's room, studying his friend who lay on the bed, dosing.

"Tired, Legolas." Came the mumbled reply, and Aragorn rolled over onto his side, blinking his eyes open to look at his friend. "I'm so tired." His eyes held Legolas's for a moment, before they drooped shut again.

Two days ago, Aragorn had taken the last dosage of the Tulcoindo, and as they had all feared, the poison had attacked soon. It had been only during the last night that horrible nightmares had plagued Aragorn, making him see and hear things in his head that made him cry out, and not even Elrond had been able to wake him. In the end, Gandalf had placed his hands on Aragorn's brow, and long minutes later Aragorn had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"Then sleep, Estel. The attack is over and no nightmares should haunt you now." Legolas said, tilting his head to side to catch a bit more warmth from the sun that shown through the window.

"Could you…could you stay with me?" Aragorn asked softly from the bed, almost asleep.

Abandoning his seat on the window sill, Legolas crossed over to the bed and sat down next to Aragorn. Stroking a strand of dark hair out of the ranger's face, Legolas nodded, "Aye, I will stay. Now sleep." A small thankful smile crossed Aragorn's thin face, and a few moments later he was fast asleep.

The second attack came silent and without warning, and when it was over, the household of the Last Homely House could take it no more. Together will dozens of volunteers they searched the valley for the one single thing that would end the pain of the one they all loved and cared for.

But alas, they found nothing that day. And neither the next day or the day after that. But they did not stop their relentless search, and three weeks after Aragorn had drunken the last dosage of the Tulcoindo, a servant of Elrond found a single, tiny batch of lilies of the valley, growing under a rose bush in the garden.

Immediately, Elrond went to work, and the next day, Aragorn finally downed the real antidote. Then, they waited.

--oOo--

"Here you go, my son," Elrond said, before he handed the bowl of ramp to Aragorn, who placed it in front of him and loaded some of it onto his plate. The rich smell of meat and vegetables reached his nose, and he breathed in deeply. "Oh, how I missed that." Before the others had even finished filling their plates, he dug in.

Smiles were exchanged at the table, and no one begrudged Aragorn his healthy appetite. A week ago, he had taken the antidote, and so far, there had been no new attack of the poison. Which did not mean that Aragorn had healed from his ordeal.

His knee still hurt from time to time, as did his shoulder, and the burn mark on the back of his hand needed constant treatment. But his ribs had healed as had the scratches and bruises, and with the return of his appetite, his good mood had returned as well.

"Aragorn, what do you say to a little trip into the valley this afternoon?" Halbarad asked from where he sat across the table.

"Sure." He looked at his brothers and Legolas. "What about you?"

Dan and Ro agreed on the spot, but Legolas shook his head. "There was a missive from my father this morning and I want to write him a letter ere it gets dark, so that I can send a bird today."

Shrugging, Aragorn turned back to his food, and no one but Elrond saw the dangerous glimmer in Legolas's eyes.

It was already late that evening when they decided to go to bed. Reaching for his door, Aragorn whished Legolas a good night, but the elf shook his head, grinning. "Not yet. Just wait."

Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn entered his room and lit the candle on the nightstand. "Why?"

His grin widening, Legolas sat down on the bed. "Just wait, Estel."

It took a few seconds, but then Aragorn breathed in deeply. "Oh no, Legolas. Tell me you did not…"

"Legooolas!" A loud shout interrupted Aragorn, and his face blanched just a bit.

"Legolas, tell me you did not do what I think that you did."

"I did," Legolas quipped, quite satisfied with himself. He rose slowly from the bed and straightened his clothing, before he looked at the door.

It did not take long for an angry Halbarad to appear in the doorway. At his sight, Aragorn could not help but grin stupidly. Halbarad was covered from head to toe in flour, and here and there Aragorn thought he saw pieces of plum pudding.

"You, elf!" Halbarad ground out, pointing a finger at Legolas.

"Yes, Master human?" Legolas said, wrinkling his nose in fake disgust. His eyes were glittering merrily, though.

"You did this!" Halbarad spluttered, shaking his finger so viciously that some of the plum pudding landed on the floor.

"Of course, I did," Legolas said this so calmly that Aragorn broke out in a fit of giggles, causing Halbarad to turn on him as well.

"Stop laughing, Aragorn, this is not funny!"

"What is not funny?" Elladan asked, standing in the doorway beside his twin. The commotion had attracted them, and they were grinning from ear to ear.

Growling, Halbarad wiped a white strand of hair out of his eyes, before he looked back at Legolas. "I beat you in the snowball fight fairly. This means revenge."

Lifting an eyebrow, Legolas smirked. "I would rather say we are even. Are you sure you want to engage in battle with me?"

From behind Legolas's back, Aragorn shook his head frantically at Halbarad. Everyone who engaged voluntarily into a prank war with the Prince must be out of his mind. Halbarad, seeing Aragorn's gestures, thought a moment longer, before he huffed, "We are quit."

Then, he turned around and after another dark look at Legolas, he made his way to his room. Once he was gone, Aragorn shook his head at his friend. "Do you never grow up, Legolas? Spring grass and flour and plums?"

Grinning like a cat that got into the cream, Legolas winked at him. "Good night, Aragorn. Sleep well."

That night, Aragorn checked his bed twice before he finally settled down to sleep. Better safe than sorry, and with Legolas, you could never know.

--oOo--

Another week passed, then two, then three, and when there were no new attacks and Aragorn put on more weight, he was finally declared on the way to full recovery. When spring slowly turned into an early summer in the valley, Aragorn was as good as healed.

And, it was finally time for the rangers to leave. Swords were sharpened, arrows fletched and clothing mended. The whole house buzzed from the preparations, and the night before the rangers left, Elrond held a feast in their honour. And although there was much laughter and joy, a sense of sadness lingered in all their hearts, for Aragorn had decided to join the rangers, and return with them. His father and brothers had long discussions with him, as had Legolas, but Aragorn had been adamant that it was time to return, and in the end, his family had accepted his decision. Though, not without setting conditions. The twins and Legolas would accompany him, and he had to promise that he would return in autumn.

Late at night, the lights were already extinguished, Aragorn heard a soft knock at his door. Upon his soft call, the door opened, and Elrond entered. He took a look around the room, taking in the packages and weapons, the blankets and the clothing that had been laid out for the early start next morning. Suppressing the sigh that wanted to escape him, Elrond gazed at his son.

Aragorn stood at the window, and judging by the fact that he had not yet changed into his sleeping clothes, he had not yet slept. For an outsider he seemed healthy, but as a father Elrond saw the changes the ordeal of the last months had brought in his son. He was still thin, there were more scars, visible and invisible, and Aragorn had become more serious. More mature, even.

Stepping up to his son, Elrond tilted his head to the side. "It is late, Estel, and tomorrow will be a long day. I did not want to wake you, but it seems I did not."

"No, you did not, Ada." Aragorn shook his head and gave his father a rueful grin. "I could not sleep. Did not even try to."

Although Elrond knew that he would not change his son's mind, his father's heart forced him to say it nevertheless, "Maybe it is too early yet to leave."

"No, Ada." Aragorn shook his head. "I must go; it is time."

Sighing, Elrond gave his son a smile. "I know. That is why I came to talk to you tonight."

When Aragorn said nothing, Elrond continued, "Over the last few weeks, much has happened. Dark things that will probably haunt me forever. And good things that I hope I will always remember."

"Ada…" Aragorn began, but his father lifted a hand to stop him.

"No, Estel, let me finish." He smiled to soften his words, before he continued, "When I found you that morning, so close to Mando's Halls, I thought it was all over before it had begun. But then we saved you, Estel, and then…then we exchanged words."

Only too vividly Elrond remembered the words his son had spoken after he had woken, when he had asked whether Elrond was only concerned about his destiny.

Clearing his throat, Elrond continued, "Your wellbeing was always the most important thing to me, Estel. The fact that your future, your destiny is also important to me does not change that. I love you, my son, whatever way you chose to tread."

It was silent for a moment before Aragorn spoke softly, "Ada, I should not have said what I did. I'm so sorry."

"I forgave you the moment you said it, Estel," Elrond said, embracing his son, who returned the hug fiercely, "Let us look to the future and not dwell in the past."

Nodding, Aragorn let go of his father. "I promise I will be careful and I will visit in the summer."

"Make sure that you do, Estel," Elrond said, but his voice turned serious once more. "I have something for you." Elrond reached into his pocket and placed a small, cold object into Aragorn's hand. Frowning, Aragorn looked at the object, and he recognized it immediately.

"Barahir…where did you find it? I thought…"

"One of the elves that cleaned your room found it under the bed and gave it to me. I thought you might want to have it back."

Staring at the ring, Aragorn turned it over in his hand. Numerous thoughts chased through his head. When he had made the decision to pass from this world, he had also made the decision to forsake his destiny and place the fate of Middle-earth into the hands of others. But now, seeing the ring and feeling it in his hand, the ring of his forefathers, he sighed deeply…before he put the ring in his left forefinger.

"Thank you."

Smiling, Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Remember one thing, Aragorn. Whatever happens in your life and wherever your way may lead you, I will always be here for you, as will your brothers. We love you. This is your home to which you can always return."

Smiling gratefully, Aragorn nodded his head. "Thank you, Ada." And after a moment he added, "I'm sure you will think differently once Halbarad and I return in autumn and he will have his revenge on Legolas."

Grimacing, Elrond shook his head. "Let's take one step at a time, my son."

Laughing, Aragorn nodded. That they would do. One step at a time.

_The End.

* * *

**Yes, this is the last chaper. I post it with a crying and a laughing face. 16 months ago I started this story and it had a will of its own. -g- The story was planned for only 20 chapters and look where we are now. 49! Unbelievable. Thanks for the support and the great comments.Let me know what you think of the end of the story! Until next time, mellyn.**_


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